Fated
by sleeplessinatlanta
Summary: AU: Trying to keep everyone IC, but very AU. Booth is in danger and Brennan must protect him.-"What's her name?" he asked instead, for some reason unwilling to open the innocuous brown file folder. COMPLETE.
1. Changing History

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones

A/n: So I swore I would never do AU, but ... I have no idea where I'm going with this or if it's going anywhere at all, so of course, I would like to know whether I should even bother trying to take it somewhere! _**Warning:**_ This is so totally AU that I almost hesitate to post, so if you hate AU turn away now!

**Changing History**

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"Stop being a stubborn ass, Seeley."

"Is that any way to talk to a Supreme Court justice?" He attempted a charm smile, but she remained unimpressed.

"Your shiny new robes mean nothing to me, Booth," Cam reminded him stonily, refusing to soften until she won this particular battle. "Especially when we're talking about your life."

"Camille …"

"Save it," she warned, raising a hand. "We can't ignore these threats anymore, you need protection."

"I have protection, Cam," he reminded her calmly, but she sent him a withering glare.

"You nearly got your head blown off yesterday," she hissed. "Clearly, the Court police is not enough." Pacing in agitation she ranted, "You know, I still think justices should get secret service protection and …"

"There's nine of us, Camille," Booth interjected pragmatically. "And most of the public doesn't even know who we are anyway ..."

"Yeah, but the ones that do are the crazies and the psychos," she grumbled, this particular argument one they'd debated numerous times before. "It doesn't matter anyway, there's been plenty of publicity surrounding your appointment." She threw him a smirk, "And believe me people know who you are."

He rolled his eyes at her not so veiled reference. In the month since his appointment, the media seemed more concerned with his physical appearance and single status than his jurisprudence and his photo appeared to be plastered every damn where these days. One particular groan-inducing article had called him the sexiest legal mind to ever grace the bench and somehow they had managed to find a picture of him at the gym to print along with it. God, Cam had a field day with that one, he remembered with a wince.

"_Can you believe this crap?" he had grumbled, slapping down the offending article on her desk. "This has absolutely nothing to do with my politics or my decisions or any damn thing even remotely related to …"_

"_That's a good picture of you, Seeley," she had retorted calmly, unfazed by his agitation. "Relax, there's nothing to be done about this stuff. You and your ridiculous good looks are a hot story. Enjoy it, I'm sure some of these articles are not going to be quite as nice after you hand down your first decision." _

"I contacted Senator Hodgins …"

"Aw, come on," Booth groaned, coming back to the present at her words and flopping down on his desk chair. "Why would you do that?" The question was a near whine. "Now I can expect quite a lecture from Angela and you know Hodgins is going to …"

"Don't whine, Seeley," she interrupted his little rant. "It's not becoming in a Supreme Court justice."

He growled his displeasure, but Cam simply ignored him. "You're getting your own personal security detail for the foreseeable future."

"No."

"Yes," she contradicted, handing him a dossier which he took bad-temperedly. "Hodgins says she's the best there is …"

"She?" he interjected with a quirked eyebrow.

"Careful, Booth, your sexist side is showing," Cam smirked. "She's brilliant, ex-CIA, apparently a complete lack of social skills, but she can kill you slowly in about a hundred different ways."

"I don't like this, Cam," he complained, fingers running over the edge of the folder without opening it. "I can take care of myself. Army training doesn't disappear overnight, you know, no matter how many years you spend on the bench."

"Booth, you have a son," she reminded him, going for his one weak spot. "Not to mention that you are in a position to change history. Whichever way you look at it, you're too important." Her voice was soft and sincere. "Court is in session in a few months and you'll be the swing vote in a lot of controversial decisions, I know I don't have to tell you just how many death threats we've had in the past few weeks."

"They've been investigated, most are meaningless," he argued, but she knew he was giving in even as he threw the dossier on his desk in frustration.

"You should look at that," Cam suggested. "She'll be here in a few hours."

"What's her name?" he asked instead, for some reason unwilling to open the innocuous brown file folder.

"Temperance Brennan."


	2. Favor

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Wow, I was so shocked by the response to this that I had to immediately write another chapter. Quick clarification, Booth isn't 32 in this story, he's the same age he is in the show, which would still make him quite a young justice, but not quite so much.

All right, let me just say thank-you so much for the encouragement on this, I honestly feel quite anxious/queasy posting something so AU, so I really hope you guys keep me on the right track. I'm really trying to portray these characters in a completely different setting, but still maintain the basic essence behind them. So I really would like any feedback/thoughts on this or I'll be at a complete loss here.

Enjoy!

**Favor  


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**

**--**

_" … Capitol Hill continues to be abuzz after the assassination attempt on newly appointed Supreme Court Justice Seeley Booth. The failed attempt occurred during yesterday's festivities on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and injured a veteran member of the Supreme Court's police force. Although the FBI has no leads as to the shooter, they are diligently pursuing all …"_

"Angie, please stop watching that," Hodgins admonished, cringing at the footage playing along with the solemn newscaster's voice-over. "He's fine …"

"Yeah, for right now," she said, a little bit hysterically, rising up from the sofa. "I haven't been able to get a hold of him …"

"He's been interviewing clerks most of the day, I'm sure he'll call back as soon as he can," he soothed, walking over and enveloping her in a comforting hug. "Don't worry, I spoke to Cam, we're getting him personal security no matter how much he kicks and screams."

"I want Brennan."

"What?" he gasped, looking at his wife in horror. "Ange … are you kidding me?"

"She's the best," Angela said mulishly.

"Yeah," he conceded, before quickly pointing out, "She's also out of her mind."

"No, she's not," Angela defended. "She's perfectly rational and who else would I trust with this … Booth is family, Jack."

"I know, Ange, I know," he sighed, but he was not quite convinced that calling Temperance Brennan was the right way to go on this. "But god, Brennan … she's … shit, Ange, she's scary as hell and she's not exactly a people person and I already know Booth is going to put up a fight with this … I just don't think that it's the best option."

"I'm calling her, Jack," Angela decided stonily.

"Isn't she out of the country?" Hodgins asked hopefully, knowing the ex-CIA operative spent more time abroad than she did in D.C.

"She's back in D.C." Angela announced, going straight for her phone.

"Of course she is," he muttered, giving in. "I'll call Cam and let her know we're sending over the security detail she wanted."

--

"Brennan."

"Hey, sweetie," Angela greeted, smiling at the slightly husky, clipped voice. "How was your trip?"

"Exhausting," Brennan replied, it was the same answer she always gave.

"Bren, I need a favor," she said softly and the silence on the other side of the line told Angela that Brennan was waiting for her to continue. "Have you watched the news lately?"

"You know I don't watch television."

"Right." Taking a deep breath, she said, "Someone I know is in danger. There was an attempt on his life yesterday, I need you to protect him."

"Why me?"

"Because he's in danger and no one is more dangerous than you," she said in brutal honesty and Brennan allowed herself the luxury of wincing at the clear implication, she was a killer, plain and simple.

"You know I don't do that anymore."

"I know, Bren, I know you use your PhD instead of your gun now," Angela's voice was apologetic. "And I'm sorry that I even have to ask, but …"

"I'm just a translator now, Ange," Brennan whispered, even as she knew it would be impossible to say no, she owed Angela her life and she would never be able to repay her.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "But there's no one I trust more than you and …"

"It's okay, Ange," Brennan sighed, already walking to her closet to pack a bag. "Of course, I'll help you." She let out a humorless chuckle. "I've killed plenty of people, protecting someone instead will be a nice change of step."

"Pace," Angela corrected automatically, but she was already frowning. "Bren, you did what you had to do, what the government ordered you to do, you had no choice."

"There's always a choice," she disagreed in a tone that made it clear that particular discussion was over. "So, who am I protecting and from what?"

"Seeley Booth," Angela said, naively expecting recognition.

"Who's that?"

* * *

--

**_p.s. Review reply has taken a back seat since it's finals and I figured you're more interested in updates than replies anyway. But I'll get on top of it once the madness dies down. :)  
_**


	3. Security Detail

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. So sad.

A/n: As always, much love to_ jerseybones_ for betaing!

**Security Detail**

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_He should have opened the damn file folder_.

That seemed to be the one clear thought in his mind once he walked into the room and saw her.

He really should have opened that file in the privacy of his own office and taken a look at the picture that was likely attached to the dossier. Maybe then he wouldn't be standing in his own living room, feeling sucker-punched by a pair of big blue eyes.

"Booth, I'd like you to meet Dr. Temperance Brennan," Cam introduced, smoothly gesturing to the woman in question.

Automatically, Booth extended a hand, watching as she drilled him with those _oh my god, fucking amazing _blue eyes, before she clasped his hand.

"Dr. Brennan, thank you very much for coming …" Cam's words were almost a buzz, but he picked up on the title and could not help being confused.

"_Dr._ Brennan?" he questioned in what Booth hoped was a normal tone. "I thought you were a …"

"Dr. Brennan acquired her PhD after leaving the CIA, Seeley," Cam explained, sending him a reproachful look; a small chastisement for not reading the file.

Brennan tugged slightly on her hand, making Booth realize that he had yet to release her and he let go as if he'd been burned, taking an automatic step back.

"That's correct; _Applied Linguistics_." Reclaiming her hand, Brennan explained, "Sometimes, speaking the right language is more important than firing a gun."

"And just how many languages do you speak?" he couldn't help asking, fascinated despite himself. _Oh, this was dangerous_.

"I'm completely fluent in six, Mr. Booth," she answered succinctly. "But for the purposes of this job what's more important is that I can, in fact, fire almost any weapon with deadly accuracy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cam smirk; it had been a long time since anyone had failed to address him without the proper deference to his robes.

"Six languages and a PhD," Booth murmured, even as he went tense at the reminder that she was here for his protection, not … anything else. "That's very impressive."

"My IQ is quite high," she said, quite seriously. "I can do almost anything I set my mind to and right now what I intend to do is keep you alive."

She turned those eyes on Cam, directing her next questions at her and leaving Booth with the distinct feeling that he had just been dismissed.

"Angela just contacted me today and I haven't had any time to acquaint myself with the situation," Brennan said briskly and all business.

"I can get you anything you need," Cam assured quickly, reaching into the briefcase that never left her side and pulling out a file. "This is some background information on Justice Booth, including a record of received death threats."

"For starters, I'd like a list of anyone who might have a reason to hurt him," she listed, taking the file and scanning the contents even as she continued in that brisk tone. "Also, I'll need a copy of his schedule, any routine habits he might have …"

She was talking about him as if he wasn't even there and it immediately raised his hackles, making him want to remind her that he was very much present.

"Whoa, hold your horses there," he interjected, taking a step towards her without even realizing it.

"I don't have any horses, Mr. Booth," she replied with a puzzled line between her brows.

"Are you kidding?" Booth wondered whether she was messing with him, but those eyes looked completely guileless when she turned then on him. _God, she was pretty. _He shook his head. "Forget it. Look, I don't know what Cam or Angela has told you, but I already think this is pretty unnecessary …"

"Booth," Cam warned in an aggrieved tone. "We've discussed this already."

"And I told you I didn't want or need any personal security," he shot back.

"Is your life, not in fact, in danger, Mr. Booth?"

"Just Booth is fine," he snapped, pissed at this whole situation.

"Yes, it most certainly is," Cam answered immediately, handing Brennan a disc. "Footage from the assassination attempt yesterday."

"If you don't want my protection, then I won't be able to do my job," Brennan noted reasonably. "And I won't be able to guarantee your security."

"Of course you can't _guarantee_ it, Dr. Brennan," he stressed the word pointedly. "Nobody can and you may be extremely competent, but you are not God."

"Since God is a mythological being, _Your Honor_ …" Instead of using his name, she used his title and somehow it pissed him off just as much as her mocking tone. "I very much doubt he can guarantee much of anything, much less your personal safety."

"Listen, lady," he snarled with another automatic step forward. "You don't get to mock my personal beliefs just …"

"And you don't get to be an idiot just because of some misplaced sense of …"

"Booth! Dr. Brennan!" Cam's voice stopped them both in their tracks, reminding them that they were not alone in the room. "I realize that this is a tense situation," she said diplomatically. "But we are all adults here, we can play nice."

With an icy look in his direction, she asked, "Can I play this?" Brennan twirled the disk in her hand and Cam motioned to the DVD player.

The footage played on screen and Booth watched in stoic silence just how close he had come to dying yesterday. _Damn, it had been close_.

"Only one shot fired," Brennan mused clinically. "That tells me that once he missed, he was done for the day."

"That's not good, is it?" Cam murmured.

"No," she replied flatly. "Once the situation was compromised, the shooter simply walked away, but that doesn't mean he won't try again. Who's in charge of the investigation?"

"Agent Sullivan of the FBI," Cam answered promptly. "They already have a record of any death threats received in the last year, but the fact is …"

"The fact is …" Booth cut in patiently, "… that I've been on the bench for almost half a decade and I just got appointed to the Court, so there are plenty of people out there with motive. I'm sure I have plenty of political enemies, not to mention any number of people who came through my court and left unhappy with the outcome. But I can't worry about every crazy, disgruntled person out there with a motive to kill me."

"Has anyone tried to assassinate you before?"

"What?" Booth palmed the back of his neck in frustration. "Of course not!"

"There may be plenty of people out there with motive," Brennan said earnestly. "But only one person who actually attempted to carry through." She paused, letting that particular reality sink in, before adding, "But they failed. You don't think they'll try again?"

"Maybe they will," he sighed tiredly, dropping down on the couch. "But all I can do is let the FBI do their job …"

"You can let me do mine," she reminded him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm the best there is."

"Very modest, Doc."

"You don't have to like me," she said stiffly, walking to pop the disc out of the DVD. "You just have to listen to me."

"I understand what you are saying," he said softly, realizing his small tease had been taken the wrong way. Getting up from the couch, he walked closer to her, irresistibly compelled to soothe. "I assure you, Dr. Brennan, I do not have a death wish."

"Brennan is fine," she echoed his earlier words.

"Okay," he agreed, instinctively knowing that this was as much of an olive branch as he was going to get from this woman.

"I have to get home," Cam spoke up, throwing Booth a smirk he knew meant she had noticed his less than composed reaction to the good doctor. "Dr. Brennan, Senator Hodgins assured me you would be able to offer round the clock security."

"That's correct," she assured and for the first time Booth noted the duffel bag on the floor. "I'd like to make a security sweep of the premises before …"

"Cam!" he gaped, realizing exactly where this was headed. "You can't just move people into my house!"

"She's not people, Booth," Cam replied cheerfully. "She's your personal security detail." Her heels clicked smartly on the floor as she headed to the door. "I'll pass by tomorrow for breakfast and we can finish hashing everything out."

"Make sure to bring me a copy of his schedule for the next few months."

"Will do," Cam replied, giving Brennan a firm handshake before walking out.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, nearly stunned as he watched her walk around his living room, cataloguing everything, from the big bay windows to the alarm system.

"Relax, Your Honor," she smirked, walking slowly by the windows, perusing the layout of the room with a critical eye. "You won't even know I'm here."

"I seriously doubt that," Booth muttered, not really caring if she heard him. "C'mon, I'll show you to the guest room."

She walked quietly next to him and he couldn't help sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. _My god, she was so freaking beautiful._ And when she walked into her room ahead of him, he realized she smelled ridiculously good as well.

_That is so unfair_, he thought crankily.

"I need a tour of the premises," she announced, pulling a gun out of the duffel bag she had dumped on the bed and tucking it behind her.

"Brennan, it's late," Booth protested, pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

"I know," her voice softened a little. "And it's unlikely there'll be any threats against you here, but I still need to know the layout and check every room in the house. I'll be quick, I promise."

"Fine," he gave in, too tired to put up much of a fight. "But we have to lay down some ground rules."

"Certainly," she accepted with a smile and he was immediately suspicious.

"But Booth …" His nostrils flared unconsciously at the soft, natural raspiness of her voice curling unexpectedly around his name. "Since I'm the one keeping you alive, they'll be _my_ ground rules."


	4. Ground Rules

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Since we're already in chapter 4, I shouldn't have to warn, but I will. This is very AU BB, so if you don't like that type of thing, this is not for you. If you do, then enjoy!

Much thanks to _**jerseybones**_ for lending her awesome beta skills!

**Ground Rules**

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"You ever heard of compromise?" Booth asked mildly, watching as she walked around his house, inspecting rooms and hallways as if his would-be assassin lurked somewhere in the shadows.

With every room, she had a new rule and from the tone of her voice it was clear that she expected them to be obeyed to the letter.

"I _will_ keep you alive until this person is apprehended," she replied coolly. "There's no room for compromise."

"_You_ work for _me_, you know," he reminded her easily, refusing to allow her infuriating attitude to get to him. "I'll take all you say very seriously, but I'm not going to become a prisoner or turn my life upside down because of this psycho."

Pausing in her perusal of the kitchen, she turned to him with narrowed eyes. The man was going to make her job exponentially harder. She had known _that_ from the moment he'd walked into the room, looking calm and composed and … _oh, what the hell_, gorgeous to a fault. Might as well acknowledge it and move on. He was, quite simply, delicious; all warm brown eyes, sensual lips, and ridiculously broad shoulders.

For just a second, when his hand clasped hers in the living room, she had wanted to run in the opposite direction; something primal inside of her screaming he was dangerous—dangerous to her peace of mind, her carefully ordered life, her very soul. And then sweet rationality reasserted itself and she shook off the ridiculous notion. He was just a man, a stubborn, attractive man who did not have the good sense to properly fear for his life. Someone had tried and very nearly succeeded in killing him yesterday; to be terrified for his life would be the logical, rational response. But instead, he was behaving as if his near-death experience had been nothing but a pesky inconvenience and the man trying to kill him nothing but an annoying bug to be swatted away.

"Actually, if I work for anyone, it's Angela," she corrected. "And work is an inaccurate term in any case, since I'm not collecting a paycheck."

"A bodyguard who doesn't get paid," Booth frowned. "Why are you doing this? Why are you potentially risking your life for no real reason?"

"There is a reason," Brennan replied, matter-of-factly. "You."

"But you don't even know me," he insisted, following her out of the kitchen. "Why …?"

"Angela. Because she asked," she said simply.

"Just like that?"

"Yes." Her eyes darkened as she added, "She saved my life. You can't repay that type of debt." Booth wanted to ask a million other questions, but from the way she turned away from him, he knew the conversation was over.

They moved into the dining room and she took one look and groaned.

"Why are there so many goddamn windows in this house?" she hissed, walking to the offending fixture and snapping the curtains closed. And he realized she had been closing the curtains on every single window in the house during their little walk-through.

"I like sunlight," he replied cheerfully, before explaining. "I spend my days in a courtroom. No sunlight or windows there."

"You know what a window is?" she demanded irritably. "It's a perfect view of your hard head, giving anyone a clear shot at you."

"You really think this person is going to try and snipe me through my dining room window?" he asked calmly.

"I don't know," Brennan replied. "I'm not a profiler so I can't really speak to his pathology, but I'm not willing to take any chances."

"If you had to take a guess …" he began.

"I don't guess," Brennan cut in and Booth merely rolled his eyes.

"If you _had_ to take a guess," he repeated, pointedly ignoring her scowl. "Where do you think he's likely to come at me again?"

"I told you, I don't …"

"Oh, come on, Brennan," Booth insisted. "Educated guess based on current information."

"The current information is minimal," she said. "But the assassination attempt was at a public event, so possibly he could try again at your next public appearance. Dr. Saroyan told me the FBI agent in charge of the investigation is meeting with you tomorrow. I hope he can provide more helpful information."

"Okay," he sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "Okay, this is the last room, so let's just go to …"

"Booth, your bedroom," she reminded him.

"Brennan, there's no one hiding in my bedroom to assassinate me," he said quickly, balking without really bothering to analyze the reaction.

"Just like there was no one hiding in any of the other rooms here," she pointed out. "But I still need to check it out. Are you going to fight me on everything?"

She did not sound particularly worried about the prospect and he nearly laughed at her nonchalance. He had only been a Supreme Court Justice for a month, but he had been a federal judge for years; when he pushed, people did _not_ push back. Who has more power than a federal judge? Answer: God. It was a joke law professors liked to share with their students when cautioning them not to piss off federal judges.

Booth disliked the implication; he respected his robes too much to play power trips in his courtroom. But he knew judges who did and he understood the sentiment. After all, federal judges were appointed for life and their decisions rarely reviewed since the Supreme Court took such a small number of cases. So it was unsurprising that his robes ensured him deference in most matters, in and out of the courtroom.

Close friends, like Cam and Hodgins, were not shy about telling him to take his gavel and shove it when they disagreed with him. But in nearly any other setting, he was handled with care; in the politically savage climate of D.C. alienating a D.C. circuit judge was a no-no. But it appeared this woman did not even know the meaning of the phrase, _handle with care_, and perversely, it excited him to know that she was willing to go toe to toe with him without backing down.

With a resigned shake of his head, Booth decided fighting this particular battle wasn't worth it. He was sure there would be plenty of battles with her in the future and he was willing to pick his fights. But the minute she entered his bedroom, Booth realized maybe he should have fought a little harder.

Like a damn high definition video, he could see her under him in his bed_. Long legs wrapped around him, blue eyes going blind, nails raking down his back. _

_Jesus._ He nearly gasped out loud, shutting his eyes against the image.

"At least the curtains are drawn in here," she muttered, pulling them aside to look out the window, before closing them again. "I want every window … what's wrong?"

His eyes popped open at the question and he bit back the humorless laugh that was just itching to escape.

_What's wrong? What's wrong is that I want you. I want you so badly that the image of you naked under me is now burned into my retinas._

"I'm tired," Booth snapped and if he had been wearing a tie, he would have yanked on it trying to alleviate the sense of suffocation.

Without a word, she walked into the bathroom, coming back out a few seconds later.

"Okay," she said, her voice softer than he'd heard it yet. "Get some sleep. Booth, if you're in the house, I want the curtains drawn on all the windows, especially in this room."

"We'll discuss it tomorrow."

"It's not a discussion," Brennan shot back, all softness disappearing from her voice. "Inform your staff, your visitors, and if you have overnight guests, they need to follow the rules as well."

"I'm too tired to fight you right now," he gritted out. "But, believe me when I tell you that tomorrow it's a whole new ballgame."

"This is not a game," she said seriously.

"Oh my god, you're unbelievable," he muttered. "It's an expression, Brennan; it means that tomorrow I will have the energy to argue with you about this."

"Oh." For a second, Brennan considered arguing again, but he truly looked exhausted. Something fluttered in her stomach and the most ridiculous impulse to gently stroke his tired face assaulted her.

"Tomorrow then," she acquiesced, hands fisting at her side as she turned around and closed the door behind her.

"Tomorrow," Booth agreed softly to himself, adding dryly as he plopped back on the bed, "It's a date."

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**-x-**

_p.s. Apparently alerts are working, but they are way behind. Ah well, as someone once said, at least they're trying!Posting on this story gives me gray hair, so don't read and run!  
_


	5. Breakfast Date

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: It's been a while, but I do have plans to finish this story, no matter how long it takes me! :)

Much thanks to _**jerseybones**_ for her impeccable beta'ing! Also to awesome Bonespal _**Dispatch22705**_ for making sure I was actually working on this and providing some fantastic ideas!

**Breakfast Date**

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Cam sat back and plopped another strawberry in her mouth, having given up on interfering about two arguments ago. Although she'd only been working with Booth for the past few years—after he'd lured her away from the gilded hallways of her Ivy League university—she had known him since she was fifteen and never had she seen him so worked up. Not even during the appointment process where the confirmation committee had investigated everything: from his politics to his personal life. The U.S. Senate couldn't even make him break a sweat, but this one woman had him ready to leap over the dining hall table and strangle her.

"Any company you have overnight will have to be apprised of and will be expected to follow the same security protocol." Cam saw Brennan tilt her head and then say in that same even tone, "Of course, if it's you, Dr. Saroyan as you're already apprised and aware of the circumstances, I'm sure there will be no issue with security."

"Dr. Brennan, I can assure you that I will not be staying overnight," Cam said calmly and because the expression on Booth's face was just too priceless, she couldn't help adding, "I do a lot of things for Booth, but providing nighttime companionship is not one of them."

"Oh, well, that would have made things easier, but …" She shrugged casually, turning back to Booth. "All right, any woman—" the pause was brief, but meaningful, "—or man, who spends the night needs to be …"

Cam bit her bottom lip to keep her composure, as Booth turned nearly scarlet, jumping up from the table, looking like he really was going to strangle the woman sitting across from him.

"Enough!" He nearly roared the word, dipping a hand in his pocket, taking out his beeping cell phone and looking at the caller ID. "I'm going to take this in my office." With a glare, he stalked to Brennan, standing so close that Cam was pretty sure he had forgotten her own presence at the table. "Some things are none of your goddamn business and you're going to have to deal with it, regardless of your precious ground rules."

"When it comes to your safety," Brennan replied calmly, angling her chin up defiantly to meet his burning gaze, "everything is my business."

Looking like he was calling on every ounce of patience and self-control he had ever acquired, Booth's hand tightened on his phone. Without another word, he stormed out of the dining hall, leaving Brennan alone with Cam.

"Why is he so damn stubborn?"

The question had been muttered mostly to herself, so when Cam answered, Brennan was momentarily startled.

"He's a very private man, Dr. Brennan and he guards that privacy closely."

Brennan blinked, almost surprised at the voice. She had nearly forgotten there was someone else at the table and the realization was infuriating.

_Unacceptable. _

In her line of work, attention to detail was critical. Not only was she aware who was in a room at all times, but also where they were positioned and what kind of weapons they carried. She did _not_ lose focus and she did _not_ lose her composure. But as she catalogued her surprise and her slightly elevated heart rate, Brennan was horrified to realize that in the last two minutes she had lost both. Simply because the insufferable bastard had been standing so close that she'd been able to distinguish the light flecks of amber in his dark pupils.

"I don't care," she answered Cam harshly. "And he needs to realize there's no room for privacy where I'm concerned." In frustration, she pushed away from the table. "I'm here for his safety, not to publish the intimate details of his private life or to judge it."

Cam sighed, unsure of how much to interfere. "Dr. Brennan, I can almost guarantee that you will not have to worry about any overnight guests," she volunteered, hoping to settle this argument once and for all. "Booth is single."

Brennan didn't care for the immediate thrill the information provided or the strange sense of anticipation it generated. Before she could formulate a response, the doorbell rang and she was surprised to watch the seemingly unshakeable Dr. Saroyan take what appeared to be a deep, calming breath.

"I believe that's Agent Sullivan," Cam guessed, getting up from the table and smoothing down her perfectly smooth skirt. "I'll go let him in."

**-x-**

"Ange," Booth answered his cell and walked into his office. "Have I done something particularly offensive to you or Hodgins that I am unaware of?" With a long, suffering sigh, he continued, "Because if I have, I apologize. I apologize profusely and …"

"Oh stop," Angela interrupted with a roll of her eyes. "It can't be that bad."

"The woman doesn't know the meaning of compromise," he grumbled, leaning against his desk. "She's stubborn, intransigent, clearly the word tact has never made an appearance in her vocabulary …" He pushed off his desk, turning to the windows and feeling his temper go up another notch at the drawn curtains. "Jesus Christ, Ange, she wants every damn curtain in the house drawn at all times!"

"Booth …"

"In less than twenty-four hours, she has mocked my personal beliefs and pretty much suggested I was gay!" He felt his blood pressure rise all over again at her pointed pause_. _What in God's name gave her the idea that he would have a man spending the night? He really was going to wring her beautiful neck.

"No, she did not," Angela scoffed, but she couldn't help the snort of amusement that carried clearly through the phone line.

"It's not funny," Booth hissed, flopping down on his desk chair. "She's infuriating."

"She's the best, Booth."

"Well, you know what, maybe I'll make do with second best," he muttered sulkily.

"You don't mean that," she said knowingly. "You've never been satisfied with second best."

He really didn't mean it at all, but not for the reason Angela guessed. No, he was much more concerned with never seeing her again. Which really didn't make any sense, he had just met her, but the thought of her walking out of his life forever made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_

The woman was blunt to a fault, maddening, inflexible and _dear God_, when those eyes drilled into him, it was like there was no one else in the world. _How did she do that? _How was her sheer presence in the same room as him enough to electrify every cell in his body? He had to figure it out before he let her walk out of his life, because he just knew that was exactly what she was planning on doing the second her job was done.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied, rising from his chair and pacing around his office. "Ange, she says you saved her life—"

"Oh my god, she's so stubborn," Angela huffed. "I didn't, I just so happened to give her a lift out of Paris when she really needed it."

"Really? That simple?" he asked dubiously.

"Okay, well, I may have also helped her out of a sticky situation at a club," Angela hedged, her tone brisk. "But it was a long time ago. Before I even married Jack, back when Bren was still active. If you want more details, you're going to have to ask her." Her next question immediately put him on alert. "Why are you so interested, anyway?"

"I'm not." Okay, that came out _waaay_ too fast. "Just curious. So, are you guys still coming over for dinner this weekend?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she allowed the change of topic. "Yes."

"And are you …"

"Yes, I'm bringing over the potato salad and the puppy," she chuckled indulgently. Booth had given her and Jack a puppy as an anniversary gift last month, but he had kept it a few days before turning him over and had become completely smitten with the little ball of fur. "But I want tons of food since I'm eating for two now."

"Done." Booth looked at his watch and sighed. "Ange, I have to go …"

"Okay sweetie, play nice with Bren," she commanded. "Listen to her."

"Like I have any other choice," Booth muttered, before hanging up.

He had heard the doorbell ring during his conversation with Angela and he figured it was probably Sully, who was coming over to discuss the investigation. Brennan was probably grilling the poor guy already, demanding to know the status of the FBI investigation.

Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Booth headed back to the dining room, figuring he should rescue Sully. Friendship bias aside, there was no better FBI Agent than Sul and few people he trusted more. Maybe, he should have told Brennan that information, asked_ her_ to play nice …

Booth stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing at the scene in front of him.

"You're absolutely right, Dr. Brennan," Sully was saying and she actually smiled at him.

Booth blinked. He had never even seen her smile. What the hell?

"We've separated the death threats into four categories, ranging from least to most serious."

"That's very rational," she complimented.

Sully leaned over her shoulder to point out something on the document they were both studying and Booth frowned_. He was standing way too close to her_. His eyes immediately went to Cam to assess her reaction, but she appeared her usual calm, collected self_. Yeah, right_, Booth scoffed internally. If he wasn't mistaken, this was the first time she was crossing paths with Sully since their break up. No way she was that calm. She may be fooling Sully, but she wasn't fooling him.

Brennan's hair—that soft looking hair he so wanted to stroke—brushed Sully's mandible as she turned her head to say something to him and Booth had seen just about enough. He walked forward, clearing his throat loudly and three pairs of eyes turned on him.

He couldn't help smiling just a little as wide and seemingly guileless blue eyes locked on his, the intensity that seemed to burn out of that crystal blue making his heart pound.

_I'm in trouble_.

* * *

**-x-**

_p.s. What do we think, do we still likey? I will try to have the next chapter out much quicker. And if you want to leave me your thoughts, well that never hurts either :)_**  
**


	6. Heat and Heartbreak

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. So sad.

A/n: I know it's been a while, but life gets in the way. Since the chapters aren't very long, I suggest reading the previous one, so that the new one flows better.

Much thanks to _**jerseybones**_ for her always awesome betaing and to _**Dispatch22705**_ for her always awesome suggestions!

Enjoy!

**Heat and Heartbreak **

* * *

She had known the minute he walked back into the room. But it was only when he cleared his throat that she gave herself permission to look up from the papers in front of her.

He didn't seem as angry anymore and when his eyes locked on hers, it occurred to Brennan that making him smile was probably a lot better than making him furious.

_I'm here to keep him alive_, she chastised herself. _Not to make him smile_. When had she ever concerned herself with making a man smile? Never. She was not about to start now.

Resolutely, she grabbed the copy of his schedule that Cam had handed her and started crossing things off. Cam had already warned her that he would be very displeased with the changes to his calendar, but he was going to have to deal with it until his life was no longer in danger.

"Hey, Sul," Booth greeted the other man, walking over to shake his hand. "I see you've met Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, I have," Sully grinned charmingly. "It seems you're in very capable hands."

Booth raised one eyebrow and the other man's grin widened; Sully could all but taste the tension between his friend and the woman sitting at the table. Anyone looking at her would assume she was calm and composed; heck, to Sully she seemed perfectly collected. It was only because he had been standing close enough that he saw the stiffening of her shoulders, just the slightest bit, when Booth walked into the room.

"Agent Sullivan, will the FBI have a profile within a reasonable amount of time?"

Sully nearly smiled at the way she asked the question. Less than thirty minutes with her and already he knew that the woman was seriously lacking in social skills. "Well, we don't have much to go on, but I'll make sure to have one by tomorrow night."

The amusement drained out of him as he thought of how close his friend had come to dying. "Seel, I'm going to get this bastard," Sully promised, dead serious now.

"I have no doubt, Sul," Booth said quietly and Brennan looked between the two men, surprised by the exchange.

"How do you know each other?"

"Sully and I were in the Army together," Booth smiled in reminiscence. "We both joined right after high school."

"God, we were green," Sully laughed, slapping Booth lightly on the back. "After we did our tour, Booth went to law school and I joined the Bureau."

"Joining the Army was the best thing I ever did," Booth said lightly. "Full college tuition and I got the hell away from Philly."

The words seemed almost casual, but Brennan thought there was something dark beneath them and she had the most inexplicable urge to comfort him. Her palms tingled with the nearly irrepressible need to touch him. To soothe … what exactly, she wasn't even sure. The impulse was completely ridiculous and worrisome. Okay, something was wrong with her, she thought, bewildered. Since when was she compelled to comfort anyone?

Learning about his past, learning _him_, was dangerous. And it worried her that, despite the danger, she wanted to know more. She wanted to know him.

"I've marked the events that are too risky for you to attend," Brennan said bluntly, her tone more brusque than she intended as she passed him the marked-up copy of his schedule. "And I've noted which routine activities need to be changed in order to accommodate security concerns."

"Uh-uh," Cam whispered to herself, her gaze meeting Sully's for the first time all morning. He smiled knowingly; fully aware that they were about to watch fireworks.

"Are you out of your mind?" Booth did not disappoint, looking at Brennan as if she had, indeed, lost her faculties. "I'm really hoping you're making use of that sense of humor I've yet to see, Dr. Brennan."

"Dr. Saroyan mentioned you might not approve," Brennan said stiffly. "But I was hoping you would be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" He waved the schedule around a bit wildly. "You think_ this_ is reasonable? You've crossed out almost every function I'm supposed to attend over the next three months!"

"That's because they pose considerable security concerns and …"

"Oh, well, then let's just close down the courtroom doors, shall we," he interrupted mockingly. "I'll just call the Chief Justice and let him know that I won't be hearing oral arguments for the next little while." He slammed the offending piece of paper down, conveying his displeasure. "I mean, let's forget that I have a job to do and obligations to meet. Those are just pesky little details."

"None of the events I've marked have anything to do with your responsibilities in the courtroom," Brennan defended, the heavy dose of sarcasm he was dispensing making her spine ramrod straight. "Dr. Saroyan has informed me that it'll be nearly two months before the Court is in session and …"

"I still have obligations and there is no way in hell that I will simply disregard them because you say so."

"Not because I say so, _your honor_," she hissed and already Booth knew he could look forward to hearing her make use of his title in that disdainful tone whenever she was pissed. "But because someone wants your hard head on a golden platter."

"Silver, Brennan, okay," he corrected through clenched teeth. "It's silver platter."

In the sudden silence, Sully's chuckle was especially loud and Booth realized that they had a captivated audience. With a grimace, he tried to collect his tattered self-control.

"Look, let's discuss this like adults," he proposed, grabbing the controversial piece of paper from the table. "If you're done getting information out of Sully, let's go to my office and see if we can reach some kind of compromise on this." _Before we kill each other_.

Brennan hesitated for a moment, wondering whether there was anything else she needed to make clear to Agent Sullivan. Quickly, she decided that her battle with Booth took precedence and in any case, she was satisfied that Agent Sullivan appeared to be competent and willing to share information with her.

"I'll have a profile within the next twenty-four hours." Before she could say a word, Sully added, "I'll keep you updated."

"Very well," she nodded, seemingly immune to his flirty smile. Rising from the dining room table, Brennan walked out, clearly expecting Booth to follow her.

Seeing the amused smiles around him, Booth growled, "Not a word," before heading after his own personal brand of intoxicating punishment.

The minute she was alone with Sully, Cam's amused smile vanished. "Flirting is not going to get you anywhere," she sniffed disdainfully. "You saw them together, right?"

"I saw. Like we weren't even in the room." His smile widened as he took a step in her direction. "And by the way, that wasn't flirting, that was being friendly."

"Oh, please." Her voice dripped sarcasm and his smile turned wolfish.

"Are you jealous?"

He was next to her now and feeling at a disadvantage, Cam rose from her chair to face him with chilly eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You shouldn't be, you know," he murmured, stepping so close she could barely breathe. "There's only one thing in this room I want, Cam."

"You're crowding me."

"I know." Cupping one hand over her nape, his mouth slanted over hers in one quick, breath-stealing kiss. "Stop being so damn stubborn. I miss you so much."

"Stop," she pleaded, voice nearly breaking. "We're done, Sully."

"For a lawyer, you're a crappy liar," he growled, feeling on the verge of shaking her until she stopped pretending she could just run away from them. "You know you're mine. You know you love me. You damn well know what we have is forever, Cam."

Her lips parted. To argue again, he was sure, but his lips effectively silenced her. Before she could even really process the taste of him, Sully released her and without another word, he walked out.

Her hand trembled as she brought it up to her lips and her eyes closed against the unfairness of it all. Two months ago, she thought ending their relationship was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, but now she knew resisting his relentless determination would be twice as difficult and a hundred times more heart-breaking.


	7. Compromise on the Battlefield

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Hey ::she greets tentatively:: I know it's been a long wait, but better late than never, right? And this is the longest chapter so far! To everyone who has PMed, asking/demanding an update, lol, I have been greatly encouraged by the support! Since it's been so long, I'd suggest maybe skimming the previous chapter as this is pretty much a direct continuation of that. I think after this one, the story will not be so rigidly linear, rather chapters will jump ahead in time more.

Special shout-out to Bones pal _**Dispatch**_ who will absolutely make sure this story does not go un-completed.

Let me know what you think of my little AU craziness! :)

**Compromise on the Battlefield**

**

* * *

**

Brennan walked out of the room ahead of Booth and waited tensely outside his office for him to lead her inside. Instinctively, she knew his office was a very private domain for him and though she had no compunctions about invading his privacy to ensure his safety, she had no desire to do so for the sake of annoying him. Especially, since she needed him complaisant for the discussion they were about to have.

Jaw clenched tightly in annoyance, Booth reached around her for the knob, his arm brushing against hers. And damn if his entire body didn't freeze in white heat. What the hell was it about her that made him feel the most contradictory things?

_Maybe because she's the most contradictory woman you've ever met._

He shook off the distracting thought, pretty sure he was going to need all his faculties at maximum capacity to deal with her. Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked purposely to his desk and sat down.

This was his damn office. Here, he was king of his castle and she was damn well going to deal with it.

"The veterans' fundraiser and the moot court competition stay," he stated without preamble. "No discussion."

Brennan's nostrils flared at the steely words and she had to work at keeping her composure. It chafed the way he could anger her. Never before him had she actually needed to work so hard at keeping a calm and collected demeanor.

Her mind whirled trying to figure out which of those two events she wanted to fight. It was easy enough to decide. The fundraiser would have a fair number of VIPs so the security would be much better than at this school competition of his.

"This competition?" she began carefully. "It takes place at Georgetown, correct?"

"It stays, Brennan," he repeated, intractably.

"Would you be reasonable!" Her exasperation could not be contained. "Cam informs me that you will be judging some kind of legal argument, but that the school can replace you."

"Brennan, listen carefully …" Booth knew he sounded unreasonable, but he wanted to make her understand so he attempted to explain. "Yes, I can be replaced, but it's not as simple as that. I've been scheduled as a judge at this competition for the last four months. Before I was even appointed to the Court. And now that I am, it's even more of a big deal that I will be attending."

"Why?"

"The competition basically mirrors an appellate argument at the Supreme Court level. This is a national competition, so the students who compete at this level are the best of the best and have spent countless months and an obscene number of hours preparing for this. They've put more time and effort into it that some people probably put into their jobs."

"Fine, but that still—"

"I'm not done." He nearly smiled at her expression. Booth was sure she wasn't aware her impatience was reflected so openly on her face. "I will be judging the final round, which means the top two teams who participate in this competition. Usually, having a federal judge at this final round is difficult enough, having a Supreme Court justice is a minor miracle."

Brennan listened to him with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The way he was talking was telling her the odds of winning on this were absolutely zero.

"All right, so you're some kind of miracle," she began, just barely preventing herself from rolling her eyes. "Which I'm guessing means your participation in this has been heavily advertised, right?"

"It has," he conceded. "And I know where you're going with this, but I'm not going to back down because some psycho will know where to find me on November 15. Look, I realize it probably seems unbelievable to you that some competition could be this important, but believe me, for these students, it is. And nearly as important for them, is the fact that I'm judging that final round. That's not ego, Brennan, that's just fact."

"Damn it!" she cursed in frustration, knowing she wasn't going to win this fight. With a dark frown, she muttered, "You know what the minor miracle will be? Keeping you alive until this lunatic is caught."

"C'mon, doc," Booth smiled charmingly, aware he had just won that battle and amused at her snarky mutter. "I have the upmost faith in your abilities."

Brennan threw him another dirty look, but didn't comment, instead choosing to regroup. Grabbing his schedule from the desk, she examined it with a critical eye. "The television interview is taped before an audience and poses considerable—"

"Fine," he inclined his head graciously. "It's out."

Brennan's eyes narrowed at the quick acquiescence and her gaze bore into his, looking for any unforeseen traps. He merely gave her a cheerful smile, revealing straight white teeth and slight indentations in his cheeks. And it wasn't just his lips, but his eyes seemed to be smiling too, crinkling a little at the corners.

It concerned her, Brennan had to admit, the way she seemed to be aware of even the smallest details when it came to him. She was trained to be observant, of course, but there was something about the Honorable Seeley Booth that alerted all of her senses. Something about the curve of his lips and the timbre of his voice, and even the sheer stubbornness he radiated in the face of a life-threatening situation fascinated her against her will.

She recalled how when he'd opened the door to the study, the brush of his dress shirt against her bare arm had suddenly made her want to feel him against all of her. It was nearly preposterous, the way he compelled her without even trying. This was not good. Not good at all. But she couldn't lie to herself, despite the intrinsic danger, she still wanted more. She wanted a lot more of him.

"Brennan?"

His voice jerked her back to reality and she blinked, frowning at the very dangerous thoughts floating through her mind.

"There shouldn't even be a discussion about any of this," she stated brusquely, resenting the way he drew her, resenting that he was forcing her to compromise. She did not compromise. That's what had made her so good at her job. She identified the most efficient and successful course of action and she did not deviate. "You should do as I say. Period."

His expression went stony at her sudden outburst. "Not going to happen, Brennan." For a moment there, he actually thought she was willing to be reasonable, but it seemed she was determined to fight him every step of the way. "Deal with it."

For nearly an hour they went at it. She called him intransigent, arrogant, and foolish. He threw words like inflexible and uncompromising right back at her. She was determined to control every minute of his day; her way of minimizing risk. He was adamant in his refusal; his way of maintaining some control when it felt increasingly like he had none.

Finally, they arrived at a compromise over the six scheduled events, but the fifty-fifty split left them both equally unsatisfied.

Booth agreed to cancel three of the commitments on his schedule and resented it bitterly. When he gave his word, he kept it and it pissed him off that some faceless psychopath had forced him into this situation.

Brennan had to be satisfied with the three events he agreed to cancel, but was already thinking of all the nightmare security scenarios on the three he was still planning to attend. Had she believed in a higher power, she would have been tempted to pray for the apprehension of his would-be assassin before any of Booth's public appearances, especially that damn moot court competition. He'd explained how the final round judging would go and it was giving her a headache just thinking about him on that mock courtroom, presenting a ridiculously tempting target.

"I've been informed that you jog around the block every morning at 6am," she tackled head on what Brennan knew would be—at least for the moment—the final point of contention. "Not anymore. You have a gym in this house. Use it."

He visibly bristled at her words and even Brennan realized maybe she should have employed some tact. But out of her many skills, tact really wasn't one of them. She was blunt to a fault, a flaw that had created some problems for her in the past.

Booth almost couldn't believe the things that would sometimes come out of her mouth. He seriously wondered if there was any filter between her genius brain and those gorgeous lips of hers. She didn't ask, she demanded and she did it with absolutely no delicacy whatsoever. It was driving him up the wall and for two very different reasons.

On the one hand, her whole I-tell-you-what-to-do-and-you'd-better-obey attitude automatically chafed, especially since he was usually the one laying down the rules and expecting obedience. He'd been a judge for a long time and he ruled his courtroom fairly, but without allowing any of the nonsense and theatrics in which lawyers often liked to indulge.

But … oh damn, he couldn't stop wondering how that attitude of hers would translate to the bedroom. It was utterly inappropriate, Booth knew, but he just couldn't help it.

_Would she be this bossy and assertive in bed?_

The question popped into his mind every time she demanded something, which was pretty much every five minutes. Her attitude annoyed him and turned him on at the same time and the contradiction was making him crazed.

He figured, even if he had her wet and panting under him, she would still be trying to boss him around. Probably demanding he get her off in that husky voice of hers. But the truth was that if he ever got her in his bed, Booth honestly wouldn't care what her bossy self demanded of him because he'd give her whatever the hell she wanted. He'd touched her wherever she liked to be touched, he'd make her come however she wanted, however many times she wanted it.

Holy crap, he was hard just thinking about it.

Swallowing dryly, Booth tried to concentrate on her latest demand. "Have you ever tried asking for something?" he questioned, desperately hoping she couldn't detect the husky undertone to his voice.

"Booth, I don't want to fight anymore," she said suddenly, her voice incredibly soft. "I know you hate all these restrictions and it's not your fault, I know, but you have to let me do my job. Please, just listen to me."

He stared in surprise. Her eyes were earnest and her voice sounded nearly tired and the combination automatically softened him. Because it did so, he was immediately suspicious. Whereas before he had been more than willing to put up a fight on the issue, her words had him ready to capitulate almost instantly and it made him wonder if she was playing him.

Did she know that soft voice would get to him? Did she know fighting had just about plummeted on the list of things he wanted to do with her? He tried to read her, but her eyes looked completely guileless.

"All right," he gave in, figuring if this was an act, it was Oscar worthy. "No morning jogs." His sigh was heartfelt. "That one hurts, you know. I hate running on that damn treadmill. It's so boring."

Brennan's lips quirked at the admission, his little boy pout prompting her to offer, "I'll keep you company." His surprised look immediately made her want to backtrack. "I mean, if you want. Not that my presence will make it any less boring as I'm not particularly amusing. Perhaps you can listen to music or something—"

"Brennan …" he interrupted the rushed words, surprised yet again since he could actually detect a slight flush to her cheeks. "I'd love the company."

"I also dislike using gym equipment to exercise," she commiserated. "I find it quite monotonous."

"Hey, look at that, we have something in common." Booth knew her confession meant some kind of truce and he was more than happy to accept the peace offering. "So, if you don't like the gym, then what do you do?"

"Hand to hand combat," she answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"No kidding?" He chuckled a little. Why did it not surprise him that her preferred method of exercise involved kicking someone's ass. "You know what, I can spar with you. Since you're keeping me company on the treadmill and all."

"That wouldn't be very fair."

"All right, I'm going to ignore the clear blow to my ego," he said good-naturedly, not for a moment foolish enough to believe she meant it wouldn't be very fair to _her_. "No, I'm serious. I've been out of the army for a while, but I'm pretty sure I can hold my own."

"Very well." The look she gave him told Booth that she fully expected to wipe the floor with him. "I will be careful not to damage you."

"Those are fighting words," he grinned, her blatant confidence utterly exhilarating and oh so arousing. "Game on, doc."

* * *

**-x-**

_p.s. I hate to promise because I can't be sure, but I really will try to update much sooner with next chapter._


	8. Sleepless Nights

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: By now you know this is AU to the max, so if you likey, then by all means, read on. Special shout out to pals _**laffers18**_ and **_angiebc_** since I believe they've been needing a fix of this story :)

**Sleepless Nights **

* * *

He caught her leg easily and sent her sprawling for the second time in the last five minutes.

"C'mon, Brennan," he chastised, watching her get up. "You're holding back."

She'd already spent the first thirty minutes of his workout using the elliptical next to the treadmill and keeping him company. Now, he was upholding his end of the bargain, but it had taken Booth less than ten minutes to realize she was handling him with kid gloves.

"I am _trying_ not to hurt you," Brennan gritted out, but he'd put her on her ass twice already and she was getting annoyed.

Booth rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You know what, don't do me any favors." He gave her a taunting smile, trying to get a rise out of her. "Maybe you're really worried you'll give me your best shot and I'll still be able to knock you on your ass."

"No," she said, completely serious. "That's not it."

He made a mental note to work with her on the smack talk. "Well, then …" Booth wagged his fingers in the classic _c'mon, bring it_ gesture. "Stop messing around and just give it to me."

Her face was blank and he nearly smiled, pretty sure she had completely missed the double meaning behind the words. Damn, but she was something else and he was playing with fire, Booth knew and yet, he just didn't care. His gazed raked over her, from her bare feet to her bouncy ponytail and his hands just about itched to stroke those dangerous curves that her tank top and workout pants did nothing to disguise.

He barely knew her, wasn't even sure he liked her, but his body didn't give a damn. It wanted her; it wanted everything she had to give. It was almost tempting to blame it on the fact that he'd been living like a monk for way too many months now, but Booth was honest enough to admit he had longer stretches of self-imposed celibacy and never lost it like this. No, it was just her. Her and those killer eyes and that smokin' body and even the frosty attitude that made him wonder whether using the right touch would make her melt just a little bit.

She came at him a little more forcefully and he had to concentrate just a bit more, but was still able to block every blow without too much effort. Booth saw her eyes narrow and knew she was surprised that it was still that easy for him.

Her movements were becoming faster, more forceful and he grunted a little as he caught one well-aimed punch, shoving her back. She barely paused, striking out quickly and he gave her another taunting smile. "You know, I was starting to think all that training in your file was nothing but a lie."

Again, Brennan said nothing, her gaze intense and focused. Obviously the concept of trash talking completely evaded her and Booth was determined to change that. "C'mon, little girl, my ten-year-old son probably hits harder than that." Her eyes flashed bright blue, making his body break out in goosebumps. When she came at him, he knew she meant business.

Shit, but she was fast. And deadly. She whirled and hit him square in the chest, knocking him on his ass for the first time. Booth popped up and blocked her next hit. He was pretty quick himself and when she threw the next punch, he was better prepared. He blocked with one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other. Her eyes widened in near shock and Booth couldn't help jerking her into him. Instinctively she turned and her back hit his chest with a solid thump, but he tightened his arms around her, keeping her locked in place.

"Surprise," he whispered into her ear, helplessly taking a deep breath of her; she smelled soft and sweet, such a contradiction to the harshness of her attitude. His momentary distraction was more than enough for Brennan and she aimed an elbow to his gut that doubled him over. "I see the gloves are off."

He sounded winded, but ridiculously cheerful and she narrowed her eyes, taken aback by … everything. His taunting playfulness, his masculine scent, his ability to meet her deadly blows. _That_ had been particularly surprising. Although she knew the basics about him, Brennan decided maybe she needed to read up on Justice Seeley Booth.

For the rest of their sparring session, she was careful not to underestimate him. Brennan was faster, but by sheer virtue of his size, he was stronger. And as much as she hated to admit it, the sheer perfection of his muscles was distracting her. It also didn't help that the man would not shut up, taunting her recklessly and inviting her to retaliate with that damn smug grin. He really was distractingly attractive, especially when that smile came out and she wasn't sure whether to kiss him or wipe it off his face.

She contended herself with attacking him viciously. Brennan was even tempted to throw some mocking of her own at him, but contained herself. Yet at the end of the session when he fell back against the mat, panting, she couldn't help standing over him and giving him a smirk. "Do you wish to rethink your end of our deal?"

"Ha, no way." Booth rose to his feet and walked to the bench where he'd placed a couple of water bottles. He grabbed one and tossed her the other. "Same time tomorrow, doc. But we gotta go over the concept of trash talking before then, because I really don't think you get it."

Brennan raised the bottle to her lips, hiding her smile. "You will be going in to work today, correct?"

"Yes," Booth said cautiously, wondering if she was going to make a fuss about it. "Since I was just appointed, I haven't hired my clerks yet and I'm behind. I'm interviewing the last two today."

"I'm going with you."

"I figured," he shrugged, figuring the bathroom might be the only place she would allow him to go without her. Somehow, he wasn't too upset about it. "But I'm driving."

**-x-**

"I …uh … is this really necessary?" His voice was young and a little uncertain, but she didn't care.

"Yes," Brennan said curtly, patting her hands briskly over his frame. "Turn around, hands to the wall."

"I've already been through the metal detector, you know," he assured.

"I prefer to do my own searches."

"I'm sorry about this, Mr. Bray," Booth said gently, giving Brennan an annoyed glare. "He's here to interview, Brennan, not to kill me."

"If he's going to be alone with you, he's getting searched," she replied calmly. "All right, he's clean."

"Of course he is," Booth rolled his eyes and extended a hand. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Bray, please come in."

"Booth …" She waited until he turned around. "When you're ready to leave, call me."

"Where are you going?"

"This is where you work," she replied, as if that was self-explanatory. "I'm going to walk around, assess the security."

"Try not to terrorize anyone, okay?"

She gave him a blank look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you happen to need something, try asking politely, instead of demanding like a dictator."

Before she could formulate an appropriately scathing comeback, he was walking inside his office. Brennan gave the closed door a killing look, before walking away herself. It was time to learn more about the man she was protecting. The more she knew, the better she would be able to do her job.

Normally, she would gather information online, but on this particular man she had a better source.

Flipping out her phone, she dialed Angela.

"Sweetie," she greeted warmly. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Brennan replied and then went straight to the point. "Ange, tell me about Booth."

**-x-**

Booth flipped his pillow over for the fourth time that night and cursed in frustration.

Damn it, if fighting with her was going to keep him from falling asleep, he had a feeling there were some sleepless nights ahead in his future. Except it wasn't just the fight that was keeping him up, it was the fact Booth knew he wasn't entirely blameless. Maybe, he had overreacted a little, but when she flat out told him she asked Angela for info, he'd gotten pissed.

And that had been the end of the peaceful dinner they'd been sharing in his home office.

"_You wanna know something about me, you ask me, okay."_

"_That hardly seems rational, considering that—"_

"_No, Brennan," he'd hissed, for some reason that he couldn't explain feeling angry about the little fishing expedition she'd conducted behind his back. "I don't want to hear it." _

_She had given him that blank look that frustrated the crap out of him and he'd slammed down the dossier Cam had given him on her. "I've got a file on you, you know? How about I go digging in it and see what secrets Hodgins was able to uncover."_

_Booth could have sworn her face had lost just a bit of color before she raised her chin defiantly. "Feel free," she spat at him before storming out of his office._

"Dammit," he whispered again, looking at his bedroom ceiling.

Once he'd calmed down, Booth realized she hadn't tried to hide her conversation with Angela. In fact, she had been more than willing to tell him, but he'd gotten defensive and lashed out.

Her bluntness bordered on the tactless, but if there was one thing he'd gathered in the past few days was that it also made her refreshingly honest. She hadn't been trying to be sneaky, Booth knew, but hell, if she wanted to know more about him, he really did want her to ask him. Maybe he should have said that more calmly, but lord, the woman had the most maddening ability to make him lose all his cool. It was a talent, really.

"What the—?"

The first scream had him popping up in his bed. The second one had him jumping out of bed. By her third scream, Booth was running like a bat out of hell into her bedroom.

"Brennan!" Two steps in and he froze because her hand swept under her pillow and in one fluid motion she was pointing her gun at him. "Holy … Brennan, wake up!"

For a second he might have stopped breathing, wondering if she was going to shoot him, but then she blinked slowly, eyes focusing. "B-Booth?"

"Yeah," he breathed, taking a cautious step forward. "Yeah, it's me. You're not going to shoot me, right?"

She looked at the gun still pointed straight at him and went pale. "God, I could have shot you." Her gaze went hard as steel. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming," he said gently.

"It happens." Her voice was devoid of all emotion. "Just stay in your room. Don't come in here again."

His eyes went wide. "Are you kidding me?"

"You should know by now I never kid." The gun went back under the pillow and she turned her back on him. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Good night, Booth."

"Brennan …"

"Don't." Her tone was adamant. "I mean it. Good night."

Booth stared at her back, she seemed so tiny under the covers, and the sound of those screams seemed to be still reverberating in the room. Or maybe it was just that he was still hearing them in his mind.

He stood there another moment, unsure, but everything about her said she was completely shutting him out. Walking out, he gently closed her door, but then his forehead dropped against the wood. He struggled with the instinctive need to open the door again and just do … _something_. But her voice, her body, it all told him there was nothing to do, at least for tonight.

"All right," he whispered to himself, walking back to his bedroom.

She'd shut him out tonight and he would accept it. For now. Because no way in hell, he'd let her keep him out forever.


	9. Surge and Retreat

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: The timeline will be moving a little quicker now!

Much love to **_Dispatch_** for muse-enhancing! :)

**Surge and Retreat **

* * *

"Booth," he answered his cell phone distractedly.

"Hey, Seel," Sully greeted amiably. "You busy?"

"Always busy, Sul," Booth chuckled, eyes still on the legal brief in his hand. "What's going on? You've got any news for me?"

"Nothing on your shooter, but guess who just paid me a visit?"

It was a testament to his distraction that Booth genuinely wondered, "Who?"

"Well, I'll give you a hint," Sully drawled lazily. "She's tall and gorgeous and has baby blue eyes that I'll just bet have been keeping you up at night."

The brief dropped to the desk and Sully suddenly had his undivided attention. "Brennan went to see you?"

"Aw, now don't be jealous." Sully could practically see his friend scowling across the phone line. "Even if she threw herself at me, and really, who could blame her, you know I'm so crazy about Cam, there's just no—"

"Sully," Booth growled over the other man's chuckle. "What did she want?"

"Well, it seems I'm behind on the profile I promised her," he said casually. "I said within twenty-four hours but she was quick to remind me it's been almost three days." Sully gave a little smile. "She wanted to ask what the holdup was."

Booth groaned. "She didn't ask politely, did she?"

"Ah, no," he grinned at Booth's resigned tone. "No, she didn't. But she did remind me that the profile would be a lot less useful if this individual managed to kill you."

Booth could just tell that he was quoting Brennan directly. "God …"

"Of course, then I had to remind her that it was her job to make sure that didn't happen."

"Why, Sully, why?" Booth asked despairingly. "You know I'm going to have to be the one to deal with her and I'm sure she's going to be a joy to deal with after your little chat."

"Oh, poor you," he mocked. "You can't fool me, Booth. I saw you two together. Please, tell me you're not dying to _deal_ with her."

"Shut up," Booth grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up at the reminder that he was freaking hot for her and apparently, it was damn obvious. "Are you actually doing anything to try and find out who took a shot at me?"

"Ouch, way to put me in my place," Sully said good-naturedly, before turning serious. "We've got one of our best profilers working on it, but we don't really have much to work with."

"Who is it?"

"Dr. Lance Sweets."

Booth searched his mental files since a number of FBI profilers had testified in his courtroom. "Don't know him."

"He's young," Sully conceded, "but he's good. I told him to look through the death threats, but it's already Friday, so I'm thinking he'll have something for me by next week. There's a fair number of threats to go through and it takes time. Which is what I told your beautiful bodyguard."

"Which means her next stop was probably Dr. Sweets' office," Booth concluded and Sully gave an evil laugh.

"Yep," he said gleefully. "Hopefully, I'll have more for you next week."

"Yeah, thanks, Sul."

"Hey, Booth," Sully took a deep breath before spitting out the question. "Cam hasn't been seeing anyone, right?"

"Aw, Sully, you know that's none of my—"

"Just a yes or no, Booth," Sully insisted, well aware how close Booth and Cam were, if someone was likely to know the answer to the question that had been driving him crazy for the past two months, it was Booth. "That's all I need."

"I thought you two were over, Sully," Booth said cautiously.

"No way in hell," he shot back, eyes firing up. "You know why she ended it, right?"

"Yes," Booth replied softly. "I told her you wouldn't care, but—"

"I don't!" Sully hissed in frustration. "Goddamn it, I don't! I've told her a million times, but damn it, she's stubborn."

"She knows how much you want kids," he reminded softly.

"I want her more," Sully said hoarsely, even as his heart hurt knowing they'd never be able to have beautiful babies together. "God, there's a million kids out there who need a good home. I told her we'd adopt every single one of them, but she's just not listening to me, Booth. I don't know what else to say or do to get through to her."

"She is stubborn," Booth conceded gently, but he knew Cam was just as miserable as Sully. "She's not seeing anyone, Sul. Just … don't give up on her."

"I'm not, I was just wondering if I needed to go beat the crap out of some poor bastard." He was only half-joking because when it came to Camille Saroyan, Sully was going to do whatever it took to get her back in his arms.

**-x-**

"So, I heard you had a productive day."

Booth made sure to keep his tone neutral because it was late, he was tired and he really had no interest in starting any kind of argument. After a long week, it was finally Friday night and all he wanted was to unwind with a beer, the leftover meal from yesterday, and maybe some conversation.

"I gather there's some deeper meaning behind your words, but it escapes me."

Her tone was as stiff as her posture and he nearly sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have even made the comment but damn it, he'd been walking on eggshells around her since her nightmare two nights ago and he was tired of it. And he was certainly tired of that aloof barrier she had erected which Booth just knew was meant to keep him at arm's length. Ironically, the only time she let down her guard even a little was during their morning sparring sessions where he would shoot his mouth off non-stop, just trying to get a rise out of her. A few times he had actually succeeded and she'd thrown some smart ass comment back at him, making him grin like an idiot. That. He wanted more of _that_, the sass and the passion that had her going toe to toe with him on everything, not the stiff woman who had barely said a word in the last two days.

"Sully told me you went to see him today." He should have known better than to try and start a conversation with her the round-about way. "He's a good FBI agent, Brennan. He's good at his job."

"Don't you think your friendship makes you biased?"

"Maybe it does," he conceded. "But if you're going to look at it that way, do you think he would drop the ball on a case that involves his friend?"

Brennan shrugged. "I don't know him well enough to make that determination."

Ugh, there was just no winning with her. "Well, I do and I'm telling you, he's not. He's not messing around on the profile, okay, but it's hard to come up with much out of one assassination attempt. They have to go through the death threats."

"I know," Brennan allowed, but her eyes were steely. "I went to see the profiler who's looking through them."

"Yeah, I heard."

"He's a child, Booth!" she hissed and Booth nearly laughed at her outrage. "Why is the FBI hiring kids?"

"Sully says he's good," Booth soothed, but he couldn't stop smiling. "What did you say to him? Did you express your discontent with his age?"

"I did," she said primly and then her eyes smiled for the first time in days. "And I informed him that if something happened to you because he didn't do his job well enough or fast enough, I would shoot him."

"Ah, damn, I wish I could have seen it," he chuckled, walking to his kitchen and opening cupboards. "You know, it does make me feel a lot better to know that if something happens to me, you're going to raise some hell." Automatically, he grabbed two plates, setting them down on the counter. "God, I'm starving. You okay with leftovers?"

"I … I'm not hungry."

Booth turned around, leaving the fridge still open and his smile dropped away. "You're not eating?"

"No." The smile in her eyes from just a few minutes ago was gone and now all he could see was that damn wall. "I'm just … I think I will just go to bed. Have a good meal."

Before he could so much as take a step forward, she turned around and fled. Booth swore under his breath, his appetite taking a sudden nosedive. It wasn't even that late, so he damn well knew she was just fleeing. Plain and simple. For a moment there, she allowed herself to relax and her outrage over the FBI profiler's age, her threat to the poor kid, it made him relax as well. Hell, it actually made him laugh. And then she had retreated so fast, it damn near gave him whiplash.

Instead of taking the food out of the fridge, Booth just took out a beer.

**-x-**

Brennan turned in her bed and debated getting up.

God, she was hungry.

The condition only served to remind her that she had turned down dinner for no reason. It had been a purely illogical decision, but his laughter and his offhand comment about how it was good to know that she would raise hell if something happened to him had rattled her.

Brennan wasn't even completely certain what _raising hell_ meant, exactly, but she could make a logical deduction and he was absolutely correct. If she failed to keep him safe, there would be some severe consequences. God, the truth was that if something happened to him she was liable to hurt people first and ask questions later. And with the acknowledgment, Brennan knew there was no point in pretending that he wasn't getting to her. He was. With those brown eyes and that deep laughter and that understanding after she pointed a gun at him and then refused to explain.

Brennan was certain any other man would be asking questions by now, but he hadn't so much as broached the subject once. Dear god, she had a gun pointed straight at him and he had actually taken a step forward, looking like he was about to climb into bed with her and rock her back to sleep. And for one endless second, Brennan had nearly asked him to. It had been years since she wanted anyone to hold her, but she had wanted him to get in that bed and comfort her. Which was why she had been trying to keep her distance because there was nothing more dangerous for his safety than allowing her objectivity to be compromised.

Her stomach grumbled again and she tossed back the covers in defeat.

Barefoot, she padded to the kitchen and before she even rounded the corner, Brennan heard the slight noise. Instinctively, her hand went to the small of her back, but of course, there was no weapon there as she was wearing only her sleep shorts and a tank. And of course, there was no reason to make use of one because the only person in the kitchen was the owner of the house.

"Brennan …"

She was surprised when he raised his gaze because Brennan was sure she had not made any sound.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, feeling a little guilty about her abruptness earlier when he had been nothing but friendly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just go back—"

"Brennan," he called out so gently that it stopped her in her tracks. "Are you hungry?"

She swallowed at the soft question. He knew she was hungry because she had foregone dinner with him earlier, but he wasn't mocking. Not even a little. He was just asking.

Nodding, she noticed for the first time that there was a carton of eggs out and he had a spatula in his hand. "Are you making eggs?" Oh, eggs sounded fantastic, her mouth watered just thinking about it.

"Yeah," he answered, voice still very soft and she wondered if he was trying not to spook her. "Would you like some?"

"Y-you're making eggs like that?" He was wearing what looked to be a very soft pair of flannel pajama pants and absolutely nothing else.

Booth shrugged and her gaze was drawn like a magnet to his perfectly sculpted chest. How did a judge get a body like that? Wasn't he sitting down all day?

"Yeah, guess it'll be interesting." Booth poured the oil in the pan. "I had no idea what I was going to make when I came out here. Thought maybe I'd have some of those leftovers, but then I opened the fridge and had a craving for eggs."

His words coupled with the fact that he was up making food at nearly two in the morning, told Brennan that he'd likely had skipped dinner as well. Something fluttered in her stomach at the thought and she walked forward a little. "Do you want some help?"

"Nah, I got it," he shot her that smile that was quickly becoming her favorite smile. "How do you want them, doc? I can make delicious eggs anyway an egg can be cooked."

"Really?" She raised a purposely dubious eyebrow, blinked in affected surprise. "You actually know how to use all the stuff in this kitchen?"

"Most of it," he bragged. "I'm a pretty good cook."

"Mmm … you're a very surprising man."

"Sure am," he agreed, giving the utensil in his hand a cocky flip that was ridiculously sexy. "So, how many eggs and how should I make them?"

"Two, please," Brennan requested politely, taking a seat at the counter space that formed an island in the middle of the kitchen. "Scrambled."

"Ah, good choice," he approved, turning to her and holding up a tomato. "I usually add some stuff, tomato, some cilantro, a little bit of cheese … anything you don't like?"

"No, I like everything." She watched him dice up the tomato and added softly, "My brother liked to sprinkle a little bit of nutmeg. It made them really delicious."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was absolutely casual, even as his heart accelerated. That was the most personal information she'd offered since stepping foot inside his house. "I think I got some around here." Booth turned to his fully stocked spice rack and found the nutmeg. "Let's give it a try."

While he cooked, she opened a cupboard and retrieved a couple of bowls, placing them on the counter next to the stove. She got some glasses and utensils, as well and placed those on the pristine limestone island, which had two chairs next to each other and Booth liked to use for eating dinner, as opposed to his giant dining room.

"That smells delicious," Brennan admitted, walking over to him and peering into the pan. "They look delicious too."

"They are delicious," Booth said, with no modesty whatsoever. Spooning a little bit of the eggs unto the spatula, he blew to cool them off and brought it up to her lips. "Taste."

Automatically, she opened her lips and he feed her the bite of food. Probably because she was so hungry, but they tasted like the most delicious eggs she'd ever had. A little involuntary moan of appreciation escaped her and she saw his lips curve in a smug grin. Composing herself, Brennan shrugged, nonchalant. "They need salt."

"Liar," Booth chuckled, giving the eggs a few more seconds on the stove, before spooning them on the two bowls she'd set next to him. "They're perfect. Best scrambled eggs ever, am I right?"

Refusing to give him the satisfaction, she just shrugged again, but he caught the teeny, tiny smile around her lips. When she went to grab the bowls, he tugged on his. "Leave mine, I'm gonna add a fried egg."

"A fried egg?" Her eyebrows rose. "On top of the scrambled ones?"

"Yeah, it's delicious." Adding more oil to the pan, he cracked another egg. "When I was little, I couldn't decide what type I wanted so my mom would scramble an egg and then put a fried one on top of that, so I could have both."

"That was nice."

"Yeah," Booth replied softly. "You want to try it?"

"No, that's all right. This is quite a lot of food," Brennan smiled and took her steaming bowl of scrambled eggs to the island-counter. "Thank you, Booth."

"No problem," he said easily, shooting her a quick smile over his shoulder before turning back to his frying egg. "Feel free to dig in … ow, ow, ow … shoot, ow, that stings."

Immediately realizing what the problem was, Brennan rolled her eyes. "You couldn't predict that was going to happen?"

Her tone said men were idiots and it reminded Booth eerily of Angela. "I'm feeding you," he pouted, wincing as the oil popped and splattered all over his bare chest. "Shouldn't you be a little nicer?"

No answer, but then she was standing next to him and he saw that she had a damp dish towel in her hand. Booth was about to reach for it when her hand came up and she smoothed it over his chest, wiping away the sting of the oil.

The spatula nearly fell out of his hands and Booth tightened his fingers around it, reflexively. His eyes wanted to flutter shut and he was sure she could feel the way his heart went into overdrive. Even breathing was suddenly hazardous because all he could do was inhale her and dear god, the woman smelled good.

Her eyes were focused on his chest and she was swiping that towel with all the concentration of a physicist handling nuclear fission. Brennan felt like she had gone into some kind of fugue state because she was finding it impossible to stop touching him. Her fingertips tingled with the impulse to throw the towel away and run her bare hand over him.

_I want to touch you everywhere_.

The thought was so loud; it made her wonder if she'd verbalized it. Her eyes flew up to his and awareness sizzled between them as surely as the oil did. His eyes trailed over her lips, his own parting and in that moment, Brennan was certain all she had to do was ask and he would let her put her hands anywhere on him.

_So dangerous, so dangerous, so irresistible_.

The sound of sizzling oil, combined with a slight pain on her elbow made Brennan realize she'd gotten hit by the hot grease as well and it snapped her back to reality. Blinking rapidly, she stepped back, rubbing the towel on her elbow with more ferocity than was probably needed.

"Thanks," he choked out, turning off the stove and staring blindly at his perfectly fried egg. By the time he placed it on top of his scrambled eggs and moved to join her at the island, she was already tucking neatly into her food.

She ate without saying a word and at the rate she was going, Booth was sure that in about five more minutes, she would get up and walk back to her room.

"Angela and Hodgins will be here for dinner on Sunday," he blurted out even though she already had that information, but the silence was driving him crazy. "I assume that's not going to pose any kind of security issues."

"It shouldn't," Brennan agreed, gaze trained on the quickly disappearing bowl of eggs in front of her. "As long as you have the meal inside."

"But I have this amazing barbecue and the weather is supp—"

Finally, her eyes snapped up to his, her tone a clear warning. "Booth …"

"Fine," he conceded grudgingly, satisfied that she was no longer avoiding his gaze.

They ate without saying much, but despite the not-so-subtle undercurrents, it wasn't an awkward silence.

Heated? Yes. Awkward? No.

"I'll wash the bowls," Brennan offered, taking hers and his to the sink.

"You don't have—"

"You cooked, I should clean," she interrupted. "It's a fair division of labor."

Booth didn't bother arguing, but he did walk over to the sink, leaning against it and watching her.

"What?" she gritted out.

"Just making sure you're doing it right," he replied with an irreverent grin. "Those are my favorite bowls, you know."

"They are not," she scoffed.

"They could be," Booth shot back, gratified at the smile he could see she was trying to fight.

God, he never met anyone more determined to keep her smiles under control. What did she think was going to happen if she allowed herself to laugh and smile? And why was he so eager to show her that happiness was not a crime?

"Good night, Booth."

Her soft voice pulled him away from his thoughts and he realized she was done with the dishes and was going back to bed. Booth gripped the edge of the counter he was leaning against, afraid that if he let go he would follow her straight to her bed.

Every inch of him went tight just thinking about sliding between her sheets, between her arms, between her thighs. "Good night," he rasped out, dazed. "Um, sweet dreams." The words were automatic and as soon as they were out, Booth went pale.

He saw her tense and hesitate for just a moment, before she fled the room.

_Fuck. _

"You idiot," he breathed to himself.

Shit, he knew for a fact, her dreams weren't sweet. Booth berated himself all the way back to his room, amazed that one woman could so totally unbalance him.

**-x-**

When she walked into the gym the next morning, relief swept over him.

She was stiff and freezing him out, but she was there. And Booth realized that he'd take her anyway he could get her. He'd been half afraid that she wouldn't show up and it sounded crazy but a cold and silent Brennan was better than no Brennan at all.

After their half an hour workout on the machines, they faced off against each other on the sparring mat they'd set up earlier in the week.

"Brennan …" It was obvious she didn't want conversation, but Booth couldn't help wanting to apologize. "Last night …I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I just—"

"I don't require an apology," she cut him off, that prickly exterior firmly in place.

"But—"

"Forget it, Booth." Brennan tried to soften her tone because she knew he was feeling bad, but she couldn't help the defensive mechanism. After she went back to her room last night, she realized the words had just escaped without thought, a polite night time idiom, but for a moment there, she had wondered if he was mocking her. It was merely a second, but just the thought had made her throat lock. "Let's just spar, all right?"

He nodded miserably and she almost wanted to say something else. Maybe reassure him that she knew his words had not been malicious. But she was feeling guilty herself that she had thought otherwise, even if only for a moment. Brennan knew he hadn't deserved even that moment of hesitation because the man who had made her scrambled eggs without so much as bringing up why she needed food at two in the morning would not mock her nightmares.

They sparred in near silence and Brennan could not believe she missed his taunting. She went all out on him, hoping he would say something, but he was so quiet and she couldn't believe how much it bothered her.

Booth gave as good as he got, but kept his mouth shut. He was glad she wasn't holding back and he wanted to tease her, but yesterday had been a lesson in saying the wrong thing and he didn't want her to retreat again.

His mind kept going back to the way she looked last night in those tiny shorts and that thin tank top. She had looked so soft and touchable and he could hardly reconcile that with the lethal way her body moved now. The contradiction was nothing short of devastating and he was equally fascinated by her softness and her strength.

With all of his thinking, she managed to flatten him, and he just stared up at her, both of them panting and flushed.

"You lost concentration," Brennan pointed out factually, staring down at him as well.

"I know," Booth admitted, keeping his hands still even though he wanted to raise one and stroke her cheek. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"You said that already," she replied and her voice was soft. "I'm sorry too."

"What? Why?"

"I … I thought … just for a second, I thought you were being …" Her words trailed off but he understood.

"I wasn't." Now he did raise a hand, pushing back a rebellious strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. "I swear."

"I know and I'm sorry I thought that, even for a second." Realizing she was still on top of him, Brennan flushed and rolled away. "I shall be more careful in the future before arriving to hasty conclusions."

Getting up from the floor, she used her towel to wipe off and walked out of the gym. Still on the mat, Booth closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing. The feel of her soft curves lingered on his body and those words lingered in his mind.

_Could she be more surprising? _

Undoubtedly, the woman was going to drive him crazy, but more and more, it didn't sound like a bad thing. It sounded oh so damn good.


	10. Personal Minefield

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Special update in honor of pal **_Dispatch_**'s birthday. Happy Birthday! :)

**Personal Minefield**

* * *

Exactly like the last time, her screams sent him running straight to her room, but this time, he found she had locked the door.

With a growl, he pounded against the barrier. "Brennan! Wake up!" She screamed again and Booth felt on the verge of knocking down the damn thing. "Brennan, c'mon!" he yelled, hoping she could hear him clear enough through the door to snap out of the nightmare. "God, Brennan … Wake up! Please, wake up!"

There was blessed silence and he listened for any sounds from inside the room. "Brennan?" His voice nearly wavered on her name, the feeling of helplessness that hit him nearly making him want to puke.

"I'm awake." The reply was faint, but then she was repeating the words and they sounded much stronger. "I'm awake, Booth. I'm awake."

"Open the door."

"I'm fine," she called back firmly. "Just go back to sleep."

"Open the door. Now."

"Booth …"

_Oh, she was so damn stubborn_. "Brennan, I swear to god, I will bust it down."

He heard the rustling of bed sheets and then she was turning the knob. She didn't look happy with him and her chin tilted up defiantly. "What? Look, I'm sorry I woke you … obviously it's a problem, so it may be time to reconsider—"

"Shut up." He couldn't believe her. Booth could see the nightmare still in her eyes and she was rambling about waking him up. "Shut up and come here." On the words, his arms were already going around her, enveloping her in the warmest hug Brennan could ever remember receiving.

A tremor went through her and she wasn't sure whether it was a vestige of the nightmare or a response to his arms holding her so tightly. "Booth …"

"You don't have to tell me," he whispered. "I promise I'm not going to ask, just let me … everyone should get a hug after a bad dream, Brennan."

He sounded so gentle, she didn't have the strength to put up a fight. "Do you have bad dreams?"

"I used to," Booth admitted. "Right after I got out of the army. I haven't in a long time. But if I ever have one, I fully expect a hug, all right?"

Relaxing against him, she smiled. "Is that some kind of rule?"

"Of course." His hands moved in a light, soothing motion, up and down her back. "I'm a judge. Do you know how much we love rules? Nothing like a good bright-line rule to make me smile all day." Booth could feel her relaxing against him and he kept talking trying to keep her that way. "Of course, there's also some really bad bright-line rules that make no damn sense and those make me really cranky. Especially when some smart-ass attorney tries to sell it to me."

"You do know I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

He chuckled. "The point is, bad dream equals hug, that's the rule."

For a while, she said nothing, but her arms were wrapped around him and her head was tucked neatly under his chin. He was prepared to stand there, holding her, for the rest of the night, but eventually she pulled back, her hands resting lightly on his chest.

"I can't stay here if I'm going to keep waking you."

"Oh yeah? What happened to round-the-clock-security?" he shot back quickly. From her frown, Booth could see she was trying to figure out a way to keep her eye on him twenty-four seven without actually living in his house. "Brennan, I really don't care how many times you wake me up."

"Sometimes I go months without having one," she murmured pensively. "Other times, I go an entire week unable to really sleep. I never know what's going to …" Her voice trailed off, realizing just how much she was revealing. "Maybe, I could sleep in another room, one that's farther away and—"

"The screams are loud enough that you can probably hear them through the entire house," he said quietly. She went pale and he cupped her face in his hands. "Doesn't matter. I'm not going to let you wake up screaming alone."

"You should stay away," Brennan said softly and he wasn't sure whether she meant in general or just during her nightmares. Neither one was an option, but he chose to address the latter, rather than the former, since it seemed a lot less dangerous.

"Is that why you locked the door?"

"I was afraid you'd come barging in again and I'd accidentally shoot you," she admitted. "Just stay in your room, Booth."

His thumbs brushed her cheeks, soft and still so pale. "Not gonna happen."

"You're so stubborn," she growled, taking a step back and slipping out of his hands. She turned around, putting distance between them and not just the literal kind.

"Look who's talking." Her shoulders went stiff and he had to bite back a smile. His little warrior didn't like to be called stubborn. Unbelievable, considering she personified the word. "Feel free to lock the door if you want, but it's not going to stop me from pounding on it."

"Good night, Booth."

Now he did smile, knowing that round had gone to him. Grudgingly, maybe, but she'd accepted he wasn't going to back down on this and was done fighting him on it. "Good night, doc."

**-x-**

"Where is he?"

"And hello to you too," Angela greeted, kissing him on the cheek before sweeping inside the house. "Jack has him."

"Hey, buddy," Booth said happily, going down on one knee to pet the adorable puppy running to the front entrance. "Oh, my god, you've gotten so big."

"Well, I am a growing boy," Hodgins joked, walking in with a Tupperware container in his hands. "Here's your precious potato salad."

"Great." Booth rose from the floor and took the salad from Hodgins. "Man, I have got to talk Angela into giving me this recipe."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Hodgins laughed, following his wife inside the house. Booth promptly closed the door behind him before Brennan could have a fit over his exposed position in front of the open door. It was one of her many rules. Along with never standing in front of a window or going anywhere without her. She had so many; it would be easy to forget a few, except she insisted on going over them with alarming regularity.

_"We've already gone over this, Brennan."_

_"Well, I find you don't listen, Booth._"

Usually, that exchange was prompted when he failed to adhere to what she called 'standard security protocol' and was followed with her reading him the riot act. In just a week, he'd managed to get himself lectured quite a few times. He just kept forgetting some of the damn rules.

"Booth, I think your steaks are almost done," Brennan yelled from the kitchen.

He smiled when he saw her at the archway between the kitchen and the dining hall. She had one hand extended carefully in the puppy's direction, who was sniffing her curiously. Apparently he was satisfied because he raised his little paws and began to lick any part of her that he could reach.

"He's very friendly," she observed, tilting her head for a moment and studying the dog. "What's his name?"

"Ah, well …" Booth walked forward, giving a wide, satisfied smile. "Angela wanted to name him Picasso. Hodgins was pushing for Ralph …"

"Ralph?"

"Yeah, for Ralph Nader." Booth shrugged and scooped up the deliriously happy puppy. "And since they couldn't agree, as a compromise, they decided I could name him."

"Ah." Brennan smirked, understanding his cocky grin. "Well, what did you name him?"

Booth paused dramatically for a second. "Ripken." Her blank look made him groan. "After Cal Ripken, Jr.? The Iron Man? Greatest defensive … oh, you know what, never mind. You can call him Rip."

Brennan made a face and took the puppy from Booth. "Rip?"

He crossed his arms in front of him. "Oh, all right, what's with the pinchy face … what would you have named him?"

"Jasper, of course."

"Of course," he deadpanned. "Seriously, Jasper? No. No dog of mine is ever going to be called Jasper."

"Well, since we're not getting a dog together, Booth," Brennan replied calmly, "I don't foresee this being a point of contention."

"Right." Booth rocked back on his heels, feeling awkward. "Good point."

Brennan turned around, puppy still in hand and made her way towards Angela, who was picking at the spread of cheese and crackers on the table. Booth rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the strange itch he was suddenly feeling between his shoulder blades. With a slight grunt, he went to wash his hands and check on his steaks.

**-x-**

Angela rose from the table and went to make herself a second plate. Booth gave a whistle at her heaping plate and chuckled.

"Wow, Ange, definitely eating for two now, huh?"

Hodgins was frantically shaking his head, but it was too late.

"Did you just call me fat?"

"What? No!"

"You did," she hissed, giving him a killer look.

"Ange, no, I—"

"Idiot," Hodgins muttered under his breath.

"You listen to me, Seeley Booth, I am growing a human being. Do you have any possible idea what that is like?"

"No, not at all," he said quickly, slightly terrified. "I can't even imagine, Angela. And you look absolutely gorgeous." He gave her his best smile. "Really, Ange, you have that whole pregnant woman glow going."

"You really do, honey," Hodgins piped in, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Nice save," Angela conceded, digging into her food. "And you made these delicious steaks. So I am willing to be forgiving. And this mac and cheese is fantastic."

"Brennan here made that," Booth said, smiling in relief that he wasn't going to get his eyes ripped out. "It is really delicious, doc."

She shrugged, giving a pointed look at what was left of the fish on her plate. "It was the least I could do after you had to go grocery shopping for me last night."

"Ah, no, that was no problem," Booth waved away the words. "Gotta have more than red meat in the fridge, you know." He gave her a soft smile. "Plus, we were out of eggs."

When Brennan had told him that she'd prefer not to eat meat, Booth had realized, he didn't really have any healthy, green stuff in the house, which was apparently high on her list of food preferences. During the week, they had mostly been ordering take-out, but they couldn't live on take out forever. It'd occurred to him that beef and pork wasn't going to cut it for her, so despite her protests, he had hustled her into the car last night and they'd gone grocery shopping. His fridge was now stocked with a variety of seafood, as well as assorted fruits and vegetables. And two different kinds of oatmeal because she liked a different brand than his.

"Booth …" Angela said softly. "Is Parker staying in Florida with Rebecca for the rest of the summer?"

The question told Booth that even though they'd all been trying to avoid talking about the fact that someone had tried to kill him, avoidance time was over. "Yes," he sighed. "I want him as far away from here as possible while this psycho is on the loose."

"Well, I made some calls and did some digging," Hodgins offered, "and while I can't be a hundred percent certain, I don't think it's the government trying to kill you."

"The government?" he gaped. "The _U.S._ _government_? Yeah, no, Hodgins, I don't think they were ever on the suspect list."

"Hey, man, you don't think the government puts out hits on political figures?" Booth and Angela groaned, but Hodgins' large blue eyes were already going fever bright. "You're so naïve, my friend."

"You're a U.S. Senator, for Christ's sake," Booth reminded him. "Shouldn't you be reassuring me that democracy and transparency is alive and stronger than ever?"

"Sure, if you want me to lie." With a shrug, he leaned back. "You know, as well as I, that the FBI, the NSA, the CIA, they all have off the grid divisions for the kind of stuff that Congress would never sanction."

"Yeah, that's great, Hodgins," Booth said mildly. "So, should I be concerned that the good doctor here, who happens to be an ex-CIA operative was sent here by you, trusty government representative?"

"That's not funny, Booth," Angela chastised.

"I concur," Brennan agreed evenly. "If I was here to kill you, I assure you that you would have been dead seven days ago."

"Good to know there." Booth rolled his eyes at the two women frowning at him. "Hey, I was just playing along with Hodgins' government conspiracy."

"Even if the government was trying to kill you," Angela sniffed. "Jack most certainly is not."

"I'm pretty sure the government is not, either," Hodgins repeated. "Again, not a hundred percent, but a solid, ninety-eight point five."

"Oh, my god, stop. The government is not after me. " Booth rose from the table, done with the conversation. "Hodgins, go put the game on or something, man."

Angela got up to go to the bathroom for the fifth time and Brennan helped Booth clear the table and load the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You know I'm here to keep you alive, right?" Brennan suddenly blurted out. "It wasn't even Hodgins who sent me, it was Angela."

Booth froze in the act of drying his damp hands with a dishtowel. "I know." Without even realizing it, he was standing in front of her. "Hey, I know. I was just giving Hodgins a hard time because he can be a little nuts."

"He's not completely wrong. About the CIA, at least." Brennan's gaze skittered to his for a moment and then she was looking at a spot above his shoulder. "I don't know how much information the file Hodgins gave you on me contains, but I can tell you that operatives carry out government-sanctioned assassinations."

"On potential threats, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Brennan, it's the CIA," Booth said softly, using a hand to tilt her chin and meet his gaze. "I'm not naïve enough to believe that this country's counter-intelligence program always operates within the letter of the Constitution. But I'm sure the CIA or any other government agency, for that matter, is not going around targeting Supreme Court justices." His lips quirked. "Hey, my jurisprudence is not even particularly controversial."

"Was that a joke?" Brennan snapped the dishtowel out of his hand.

"Yes," Booth smiled. "But it's true. Otherwise, I would have never even been appointed."

"I could really go for some ice cream," Angela announced, eyebrows going up at how close her two friends were standing together. They took hasty steps back at her voice and she stifled a smile.

"Hey, you know what, me too," Booth agreed. "I've got some in the fridge. You want some, doc?"

"No, thank you." She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Angela and Booth to their ice cream.

"So, you two are getting along better, right?"

Booth retrieved the ice cream and shrugged. "Sure," he said neutrally. "The desire to kill each other is fairly sporadic now. You know, only every couple of hours or so."

"Right," Angela smirked as he served their ice cream and her mind whirled. She'd caught the vibe when they'd started talking about groceries, but it still surprised her to find them standing so very close. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent." They dug into their bowls of strawberry ice cream, standing side by side and looking into the living room from their kitchen vantage point. Hodgins was perched in front of the TV and Brennan was sitting, crossed-legged on the floor, playing with the puppy. "I caught the vibe."

"What vibe?"

"The I-want-to-jump-your-bones vibe."

Booth sighed, watching Brennan laugh softly as Rip climbed on her lap and licked at her face.

"Half the time, I don't know whether I'm going to strangle her or kiss her." He couldn't stop staring as she played with the puppy, petting him until he was practically delirious. This was the most relaxed Booth had ever seen her, soft and unguarded. "Damn it, look at her. It kills me how she can go from this harsh, abrasive person to the most innocent, vulnerable thing I've ever seen. And, you know, it's really unfair that she looks like that," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Like what?" Angela breathed softly, afraid to wake him up from whatever trance he'd gone into that had him blurting out so much revealing information.

"Like that. So beautiful I can't think. So very gorgeous, all the damn time. It's just not fair."

"Oh my God." Angela stared, wide-eyed, at Booth and he blinked, the back of his neck heating up. "Please, tell me you're going to do something about it."

"Do what, Ange?" He shook his head, reality hitting him in the face. "There's a reason she's here and that reason is that someone is trying to kill me."

"So what?"

"Just drop it, okay?" Booth's tone was adamant and even though Angela was tempted to keep arguing, she held her tongue. After a few minutes, he said starkly into the silence, "She has nightmares."

"Are you asking me?"

It was so tempting to say yes because Booth wasn't sure Brennan would ever tell him herself and it was driving him crazy that he didn't know how to help her. But, he'd been angry when she'd asked Angela for information and knew the same policy applied to him. If he wanted to learn about her then he had to go to her. And if she chose to keep her secrets, then he had to accept it.

"No."

"Booth …"

"I'm not, Angela." Resolutely, he spooned some of his melting ice cream and gave her a smile. "This is good, right?"

Angela just nodded and followed his lead. Still, she wondered and worried.

A few hours later, Hodgins and Angela were getting ready to leave and Brennan was as reluctant to hand over the dog as Booth had been the first time he'd had to give him up. Even now, he stood next to Brennan, petting the shaggy head nestled in the crook of her arm and looking mournful. "Bye, buddy."

"All right, he's coming with us, Brennan," Hodgins declared, reaching for the puppy drowsily sleeping in her arms. She gave him a disgruntled look, but returned him to his owner. "Man, what is it with you two?" He shook his head in amusement. "Get your own dog."

"Get away from the doorway, Booth," she whispered to him.

Saying goodbye to his friends, Booth watched her as she closed the door, meticulously setting the alarm.

"Hey, come to my office for a sec?" he asked, softly. "I want to give you something."

**-x-**

"What is this?"

"Your file. Well, I'm sure not everything, but it's what Hodgins sent Cam on you." Booth leaned back against his desk. "I never read it. I know Cam did because she told me you were ex-CIA with a seriously deadly skill set."

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Because." He shrugged casually. "Because if I want to know something, I'll ask you."

Brennan opened the folder for a moment, before closing it again and dropping it back on the desk. "A considerable portion of my record is classified, I doubt even Hodgins could access it. You can read the file—"

"Why would I?" he cut in calmly. "When I can just ask you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're assuming that I'll answer your questions and that I'll answer them truthfully."

"I guess I am." Pushing off the desk, Booth moved to stand in front of her, his eyes serious. "And I guess you'll have to make the same assumptions about me."

"You're a public figure, there's a lot of information about you in the public domain."

"Exactly. Public, Brennan. Like where I got my degree or my published opinions." His voice, soft and low, washed over her like a caress. "But just like that file won't tell me anything truly personal about you, googling my name won't tell you anything all that personal about me."

"Personal is not relevant to—"

"Stop right there before you start lying to me." She frowned up at him and he was helpless not to smooth a finger over her brow. "Don't frown. I promise I won't lie to you either."


	11. On Pure Instinct

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I know you'all have been waiting and I hope it's worth it! Much love to _**Dispatch**_ for her awesome suggestions on this chapter and this story. My favorite part of this chappie is the end and that's all her! :)

**On Pure Instinct**

* * *

"You're going to behave, right?"

"Don't I always?"

Booth's eyes narrowed. She sounded completely serious. "You don't want me to answer that."

The knock at his office door had him pushing off the desk, but Brennan was already crossing to open the door herself. Sully walked in, followed by a young man who sent Brennan a slightly terrified smile.

Sully caught the gesture and gave an irreverent grin. "You two know each other, right?"

"We've met," Sweets said, his smile more of a grimace. Brennan merely gave a curt nod.

Booth shook his head at his friend's obvious amusement and stepped forward, extending a hand. "Dr. Sweets, right? Thank you for coming all the way here."

"A pleasure to meet you, Justice Booth." Sweets shook the offered hand and gave a much more genuine smile. "I'm sorry about the whole assassination attempt thing. It totally sucks."

"Sure does, Dr. Sweets," Booth replied, biting back a smile. God, Brennan was right, he was just a kid. But he knew that Sully wouldn't be using him unless he was very good, so Booth tried to temper his immediate bias. "I believe you can help me out with that, yes?"

"Oh, right." Sweets flushed a little and tried to regain his equilibrium, it was a little difficult when the woman who had threatened to shoot him just last week was standing a few feet away. "I went through the threats Agent Sullivan sent me and in my opinion, most are harmless, but a few definitely bear additional scrutiny. The ones from Howard Epps and Kevin Hollings are especially worrisome."

"Technically, Kevin Hollings never threatened me."

Sully scoffed. "I'd say those creepy letters every damn month sure as hell seem like a threat to me."

"Sure, he was careful with his words," Sweets agreed. "But, any criminal psychologist worth his salt will tell you, those letters he sent you most definitively constitute a threat. And in my opinion, a serious one."

"Epps and Hollings are both in prison last time I checked," Booth pointed out. "Yeah, they probably want me dead. I put them both away for the rest of their miserable lives, but you think they could take me out from behind bars?"

"Even from prison, it is possible to hire someone to accomplish the task," Brennan added reasonably. "Your shooter took a single shot at you in a crowd of people. When he failed, he simply aborted. That indicates that a professional hit could be a valid hypothesis, assuming either of these men could afford it."

"I agree, which is why I checked their finances," Sully informed. "Hollings made plenty of money before he was caught and he was frugal, didn't spend his considerable salary on anything but the basics. His bank account has over three hundred thousand dollars in it. And Epps doesn't have a penny to his name, but guess what, he got married and his wife owns a business. There's about one hundred thousand in their joint savings account."

"He got married?" Booth's eyes widened in horror. "Christ, what's wrong with people."

"Takes all kinds." Sully just shrugged. "The thing is that I couldn't find any payments that would indicate either one hired a hit. Hollings' account has been untouched, tidily gathering interest since he went in. Last withdrawal was to the lawyer who handled his appeal almost two years ago. Similar deal with Epps. No unexplained or suspicious withdrawals."

"There could be other accounts you didn't find." Brennan's cool voice made Sully hiss in frustration.

"Maybe, but since I didn't find anything, no judge is going to give me a warrant to go on some wild goose chase."

"You're right," Booth nodded. "I know I wouldn't."

"You know, as creepy and scary as those two are, my gut's not feeling it," Sully said.

Brennan frowned. "Your gut?"

"Yeah, it just feels … not right." Sully paced a little, mind whirling. "It's been too many years since their convictions—"

"Agent Sullivan, individuals like Hollings and Epps would have the patience to wait as long as necessary, as evidenced by the fact that they have maintained contact despite the length of time," Sweets provided.

"Yeah, okay, maybe, but I almost feel like if Epps or Hollings had the capability to take someone out, Booth wouldn't be first on the list."

"The threats from both—"

"Look, I'm not saying he wouldn't be on the list," Sully interrupted Sweets. "He just wouldn't be first. Hollings, for example, would go after Caroline first. If there's one person he loathes more than Booth, it's Caroline and she's alive and well."

"Who's Caroline?" Brennan inquired.

"Caroline Julian. The prosecutor who tried Hollings," Booth murmured, eyes narrowed in consideration. "She also receives some not so friendly correspondence from him nearly every month."

"And Epps, honestly, I think if he could, he would come after me first. You sentenced him and he was pissed that you didn't buy his sob story about mommy's abuse and mitigate his sentence, but I was the one who caught him. I handed him over to the prosecution wrapped up with a damn bow and he knows it."

"Plus, Hollings and Epps, they're hands-on," Booth chimed in. "They like to have a front row seat to what they do."

"That's very true," Sweets conceded. "They have very defined pathologies and hiring someone to kill for them wouldn't follow the pathology. I believe they are both capable of meticulously planning your death, but the satisfaction would come in carrying it out themselves."

"So what you're saying is that despite all that psychological analysis, you have nothing helpful," Brennan concluded. "What a surprise."

"Brennan …" Booth warned mildly, practically sensing her frustration at the lack of useful information. "There's just not much to go on," he sighed, trying to contain his own frustration. "Threats, serious or otherwise are part of the job description. Any number of defendants that came through my court room could be holding a serious grudge."

"What about the bullet?" Brennan demanded. "That should give you some information on—"

Sully raised a hand. "Ballistics is analyzing it, but it ain't TV, doc, so it takes time. Believe me, this is priority one for the FBI." He turned an innocent smile on Booth. "It'll be real bad for the Bureau if we can't catch this guy before he damages your pretty face."

"I won't let anyone damage him," Brennan assured, perfectly serious.

Sully smirked and Booth decided he really had to get to work. "All right, those legal briefs won't read themselves." He gestured to the pile on his desk and walked towards the door in a not so subtle indication that the meeting was over.

Sully didn't move, but Sweets took a few automatic steps.

"Um, Justice Booth, I uh, threats can come in many ways," Sweets stammered a little. "It isn't just criminals with a grudge that can be dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"In my opinion, Pam Nunan's behavior is highly disturbing and should not be treated lightly."

"What?" Booth's head whipped to Sully. "Really? You told him about that? You gotta be kidding me."

"You should have really gotten a restraining order," Sully said, not for the first time.

"She hasn't come near me since my appointment."

"Yeah, because the Court police won't let her," Sully replied.

"You can't really believe that she's behind—"

"She stalked you for over two months!"

Booth almost winced. He really didn't want to use that word, although he had been on the verge of taking out that restraining order the last time she'd showed up in his court room.

"Stalking is the type of passive aggressive yet obsessive behavior that can quickly escalate to violence if the perpetrator feels injured in some way. Any perceived slight can trigger—"

"Dr. Sweets, the woman was clearly off and even delusional, but I think violent is taking it a little bit too far."

"Booth …" Brennan gave him a steely look. "Explain." This was the first time she'd heard of this and it displeased her severely that he had failed to disclose what appeared to be a potential threat.

"It's not that big a deal—"

"Yeah, right," Sully cut in, more than happy to relay the information. "About three months ago, Booth presided over a trial. Defendant was a sleazy con artist who targeted wealthy women, seduced them, and then left with a bunch of their money. The prosecution got him on seven different counts of theft by false pretenses and a few anti-fraud federal statutes. Pam Nunan was one of the key witnesses against him. Just so happened that she was also a loon who began to stalk the good judge here."

"She became very distraught on the stand, nearly hysterical. Could barely answer questions. The defense started putting up a fuss about her competency and the right to cross-examine her. The truth was that if she didn't calm down, I would have to strike her direct testimony from the record. So, I ordered a recess and I spoke to her in chambers," Booth sighed on the explanation. "I gave her some time to calm down and I talked to her … I mean, she was a victim for god's sake, I tried to be sympathetic to that. I explained that the defense had a right to cross-examine her and that all she had to do was tell the truth."

"You communicated reassurance, which she instantly interpreted as a type of personal intimacy. I'll bet she calmed down almost immediately and assured you that she was capable of testifying."

Booth was slightly annoyed by the accurate observation. "Yeah."

"After the trial, she began showing up in his court room nearly every day, leaving messages at the court house. Calling his office so often, he changed the number," Sully helpfully provided.

"I_ cannot_ believe you didn't tell me about this!" Brennan seethed, looking like she was about to strangle him. "In all the times I have asked you to think of anyone who might want to hurt you, you didn't think to mention a goddamn stalker!"

"Can we talk about this later?" he asked hopefully, trying to avoid a shouting fight in front of a captive audience.

"Dr. Sweets," Brennan nearly barked and the young psychologist came to attention. "What's the typical stalker profile? What's the likelihood of violence? How, if at all, would that violence manifest? When, where, and how are stalkers most likely to contact their victims?"

The questions came out rapid-fire, making Sweets blink and Booth groan silently. He couldn't believe her. She'd spent days griping about the boy's age and imprecise field of study and here she was, actually _listening_ to the damn kid.

"T-There are a number of factors to take into account—"

"Fine, take your factors into account and give me a clear and detailed profile as soon as possible. Psychology does not impress me, so I would prefer empirical data when possible."

Sweets looked dazed. "But I, um, I am a psychologist."

Booth brought a hand to his mouth to muffle his chuckle. It was completely inappropriate that he was so amused by her abrasive attitude. Of course, it was a lot more entertaining when it wasn't directed at him.

"Agent Sullivan, make sure he does it quickly. I don't want to have to wait another two weeks." With that order, she opened the office door, obviously intent on getting them out of there.

It hadn't been quite two weeks, but Sully just gave her a nod, figuring now was not the time to argue. She looked pissed as hell and he was sure Booth was going to get a piece of her mind for failing to provide all relevant information. Mouthing good luck to his friend, he walked out behind a still bemused Sweets.

**-x-**

"No."

Cam chuckled and slid the letter back towards her. "It's a good offer, right?"

"Aw hell, you're going to take it, aren't you?"

"Have you decided who you'll be hiring to clerk?" she replied instead.

"I've narrowed down my choices." Booth tapped his fingers on the desk. "There's an opening in the Office of Legal Counsel, you know."

"Because that won't seem like favoritism, at all." Cam laughed a little. "I have no desire to work for the Supreme Court, Booth."

"I know," he admitted, tapping the letter. "George Mason, huh?"

"The current dean is retiring at the end of the summer and the law school is looking for new blood."

"Dean Camille Saroyan," Booth intoned with a quirk of his lips. "Has a good ring to it."

Cam smiled. "It'll be a lot of supervisory and administrative work."

Now Booth laughed out loud, not fooled for a minute. She would mold and shape that law school with steely finesse, just as she had the D.C. Circuit Court. It was Booth who had lured her into applying and accepting the position as staff attorney and though she didn't work solely with him, they had worked closely together for the past two years.

"You'll be perfect." With a smile, he added, "I think every judge on the Circuit is going to cry when you leave, though." In addition to her JD, Cam had a PhD in Comparative Politics and a keen legal mind. Combined with her meticulous work and brilliant analytical skills, whoever followed her had some big shoes to fill.

"I knew this was just a two year term and I knew I wanted to go back to teaching."

"How much teaching are you going to do as dean?"

"Probably one class a semester," Cam guessed. "Booth … have you talked to Sully about the investigation?"

The sudden inquiry told Booth the question had likely been circling in her head for a while.

"Yeah, just a few days ago," he answered. "There's really not anything to go on. To be honest, I feel like I'm just waiting for his next move."

"Or her."

"What?"

"Her," Cam repeated. "It could be a woman too, you know."

Booth's eyes narrowed. "Have you been talking to Brennan?"

"I spoke to her briefly when I came in. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Booth …"

He sighed and muttered, "I kinda forgot to tell her about the whole Pam Nunan situation and she found out about it a few days ago."

Cam's eyes widened almost comically. Based on the past few weeks, she was fairly certain Brennan must have blown a gasket at the information. "Are you crazy? Why didn't you tell her about it?"

Booth shrugged. "I don't know. I just wanted to forget it. I mean, that whole thing was so weird, I didn't really want to keep worrying about it."

"Well, now someone's trying to kill you, so you kinda have to."

He made a face at the dry tone. "So Brennan informed me."

"I'll bet." Now Cam gave a knowing smirk. "So, how angry was she?"

"Very."

"Then why are you smiling?"

Booth tried to school his expression, but he knew his lips kept quirking up. The truth was, remembering her furious tirade made him smile. No one had ever directed that much passionate anger in his direction and maybe he was a little crazy, but so much _feeling_ coming from the most controlled, detached woman he had ever met was just plain exhilarating. Instinct was telling him that everything about her was perfectly designed to leave him feeling intoxicated.

"No reason."

**-x-**

A few days later, Booth wasn't feeling nearly so cheerful. She was being a damn pain in the ass about what she termed his _concerted insistence on preventing her from competently doing her job_.

He'd already admitted his mistake and promised he hadn't kept anything else from her, but jeez, the woman could hold a grudge. And Booth was getting tired of the icy, formal treatment. Just thinking of the way she's sparred with him an hour earlier, all stiff upper lip and silent focus, was making him annoyed.

The sharp knock at his office door had him gritting his teeth. She was the only one in the house so he knew it was her and the whole polite knock on his door thing was a recent development that was getting on his nerves.

"Come in," he growled, watching her walk in with that neutral expression and freshly showered hair. "You don't have to knock, you know," Booth muttered, but she just sat silently across from him. His desk blocked her legs from his view, but he didn't need any help to imagine their shapely lengths, one crossed primly over the other.

It was such a feminine thing and he felt warmth flood his belly. An hour ago, she had been tough as nails, but here she was now, soft and lady-like. Trying not to shift in his leather seat, Booth used one finger to slide his calendar for the upcoming week across the desk toward her. She picked it up without a word and scanned the contents of his life on paper. Without taking her eyes from the piece of paper, she inquired calmly, "Is there anything else I should know?"

He wasn't fooled by the seemingly innocuous question and it set his teeth on edge and sent his mind whirling.

_Anything else? Why, yeah, Brennan. You should know that I wake up every morning hard for you. That thinking of having you everywhere in this house has become my favorite pastime. That one day you're going to scream my name and come all around me until … son of a bitch. Stop. _

"Nothing comes to mind," he said blandly, running his tongue along the bottom edge of his teeth and leaning back in his chair.

Her gaze finally met his, steady and so purposely impassive, it made his fists clench. "Well, if something_ does_ come to mind …" Soft, soft words dripping with ice. "I hope you won't wait weeks to inform me. After all, I can only—"

"Oh, fine. Fine!" he barked out, unable to take it anymore. "I'm such a horrible person, so many deep dark secrets I haven't told you about. But if you wanna know, okay, fine," he repeated, his mind telling him to calm down, but words flying out with no regard. "Let's see …" His voice dripped sarcasm as he pretended to consider. "All right, favorite band. Led Zeppelin. Favorite food is pie," he spit out. "I could eat pie all day, I like it that much. I also put brown sugar on everything. It's pretty unhealthy, apparently, but I don't really care." Standing up, he yanked his dress shirt from his belted pants. "You see this scar?" Booth pointed to the thin line of puckered flesh. "I got it from a fight with my brother when I was eleven."

She was staring a little wide eyed at him and she was probably wondering if he'd lost his mind, but he couldn't stop. "Sometimes, I play Scrabble online. If I'm really bored. So obviously, it hasn't happened any time this millennium." His chest felt tight, he was so tense. "Because, as you know," he yanked back his schedule and had to force himself not to crumple it with one fist. "I'm a busy guy. That's all I can think of right now, doc. Satisfied?"

Booth wasn't sure what he expected her to do, but when she stood up, her face calm as she turned and walked toward his office door, he was nearly shaking. Her hand on the doorknob, she turned and met his eyes. "I also enjoy playing scrabble."

And then she was gone, leaving Booth alone and stunned. Her words had been so soft and almost shy. The shift from cold to warm made his head swim, and he couldn't breathe. He'd made it to the Supreme Court with sheer determination and an uncanny ability to read people, but for some damn reason, he always felt one step behind Brennan. She angered and amused him and made him ache all at the same time.

With a sigh, he fell back into his desk chair and ran a hand over his face. His shirt front hung haphazardly over his belt and as he shoved it back in, he tried to shake off his confusion and get back to work.


	12. Playtime

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I guess holiday weekend means frequent updates. Yay for the holiday! Happy birthday to pal _**laffers18**_, who makes sure I never forget about this story, lol! And happy 4th of July to everyone! This story always feels like a terrifyingly precarious balancing act so if you like or have comments, I'd like to know! :)

**Playtime **

* * *

"Why are you still harassing Sully?" he muttered.

He knew she was because Sully's latest call had ended with, _Oh, by the way, tell Brennan, she'll be the first to know when I have that ballistics report_.

"Why are you grumpy?"

Booth raised startled eyes to her. "What?"

"Is it because you were at the office even later than usual?" She gave him a stern look. "You tend to overwork, you know. It's not good for you."

"Are you serious?"

"Are you going to tell me why you're cranky?"

She seemed perfectly serious and he nearly laughed. "Oh, _I'm_ the cranky one?"

Brennan nodded. "I can tell by the way you keep yanking on your tie." She gestured pointedly and he let his hand fall. "And the line of your shoulders changes and your jaw starts to tic." Automatically, one hand went up to his jaw and the other reached inside his pants pocket and she added knowingly, "And you fidget incessantly with that little gavel. Why do you always carry that thing around?"

"Well, well, aren't you observant?" he murmured, fingers freezing on the miniature gavel he'd always carried with him since graduating law school.

"I am. Very observant."

She looked at him expectantly and Booth could tell she was waiting for an answer to her question. And damn, if she wasn't right, he was in a crappy mood, but he couldn't believe that she picked up on it because she'd been _watching_ him. Observing and cataloguing in that genius brain of hers. And he wondered what else she'd observed? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but her foot tapped impatiently on the floor and he just smiled tiredly.

"I just … I miss my son," he admitted, sitting down on the couch with a sigh.

"Oh."

"Yeah, he usually spends the entire summer with me, but with, you know …" Booth leaned back and tugged his tie loose. "I talked to him today and he was a little upset and … god, I just, I feel like I've lost all control of my life in the last few weeks."

"I'm sorry." She could see his stress and frustration and there was nothing she could do. Brennan spoke six languages, but it didn't matter when she just didn't know what the right words were. Unless it hampered her job, she had never before particularly cared about saying the right thing. But suddenly, she cared now.

"It's not your fault, doc," Booth sighed out, feeling suddenly exhausted. Scrubbing a tired hand over his face, he pushed up from the couch. "I'll be in my office."

Brennan watched him walk out of the living room and chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. She knew he had worked in his office—_chambers, _she corrected herself—at the Supreme Court all day and it seemed he wasn't done working for the day.

If there was one thing she'd learned was that he worked _all the time_. Apparently, Justice Seeley Booth just couldn't relax. The only time she ever saw him truly relaxed was during their workout sessions in the morning. Brennan wondered if he was that high-strung all the time or if it was a side effect of the fact that there was someone out there trying to kill him.

Of course, she couldn't be sure, but there was just something about him that said he was tightly wound all the time. Without her permission, the most delicious image of how to unwind him popped into her mind.

_That's inappropriate_, she chastised herself. Just why she felt the need to help him de-stress, Brennan didn't want to analyze too closely, but she was determined to come up with some way—_an appropriate way_—to help him do so.

**-x-**

Booth rolled his shoulders back and a look at his phone told him it was nearly ten o'clock at night. His back was stiff from sitting down for so long and his eyes felt glassy after staring at small typed print all day long.

There was a soft knock on his door, but unlike the last time she'd knocked, he knew she wasn't trying to annoy him with the formality. Somehow, he could tell by the soft sound that she was just trying to gently announce her intent to come in. Though no words had been spoken on the subject, Booth knew that they had reached somewhat of a truce after his aggravated rant the previous week.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice raspy in that way it gets when it hasn't been used for hours.

Brennan walked in, something obviously on her mind. "Are you … are you done working for tonight?"

He blinked tired eyes and pushed back his desk chair. "Yeah, I guess I should call it a night." Booth gestured to the stack of briefs on his desk. "All these arguments are starting to sound the same and that's not good."

"I was looking through your library and I found something and I wondered if I could make use of it."

"What is it? A book?" He gave her a puzzled look. "You don't need to ask for permission, Brennan, you can get any book you want."

Brennan gave a little smile. "It's not a book."

She turned on her heel and started walking. Booth scrambled after her. It was clear she was up to something. "What's going on?"

Instead of answering, she just led him to his library. The room had a somewhat ornate glass coffee table and a couple of plush chairs. In the bookcases, legal texts co-existed peacefully with mystery thrillers and historical fiction.

His lips were parting to ask her what she was up to when his eyes really focused on the table. There were two objects on it—a large plastic bowl and a perfectly squared wooden box. He walked closer and his eyes widened.

A giant bowl of popcorn and Scrabble.

Brennan felt irrationally warm as she stood near the door and waited for his reaction. Earlier, she had stared at the game, decoratively displayed in his private library, for too long, cursing the vulnerability she felt. It was just a game and one she was quite good at. But that she had it in common with him made it seem less like competition and more like … intimacy.

She didn't know what had possessed her to make the bowl of popcorn, other than the fact that he had a small obsession with it. Indeed, he seemed to have a distinctively unhealthy diet—too much red meat and pie and popcorn drenched in salt. Brennan had already expressed her disapproval of his eating habits a couple of times, but tonight, she felt compelled to give him whatever would make him happy.

"What … what is this?"

"It's Scrabble," she answered, a slight frown appearing. "I … you said you liked to play."

"I do," Booth murmured, feeling a little dazed. "You found this here?" he asked, motioning toward the game, and Brennan blinked, unable to keep a smile from crossing her lips.

"It's yours," she told him, enjoying the way his brow furrowed in surprise.

"It is?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

A laugh escaped her lips and she thought she saw his eyes flicker before he looked back to the game. "Yes. I found it here, Booth. So unless you stole it from somewhere, it's yours. Haven't you ever played it?"

Booth smiled then. "No," he admitted. "Cam hired someone to decorate this room. I think she must have just put it in there for show." He flashed a self deprecating grin and quick eyebrow lift. "To make me look smart."

His index fingertip ran along the seam of the box and Brennan tried to ignore the way her skin tingled in desire for the same touch. "I just … I thought maybe we could … play. That is if you want—"

"Yeah," he said, maybe a little too quickly. His eyes met hers then and he bit his bottom lip for a second. "I do. Sounds fun." Booth looked down at his tucked-in shirt and slacks. "I just … let me just go change, okay. I've been wearing these clothes all day."

"Okay," Brennan blinked and forced her eyes to remain on his face, instead of roaming over his body. "I'll, um, set up the game."

"Okay," Booth repeated and something about the whole thing was making him feel ridiculously young. Like the way he did in middle school when the shy girl he'd been mooning over the entire year finally smiled at him. "I think I'll grab a couple of beers on the way back. You want one?"

"Sure," she nodded and then added quickly, "But not if it's—"

"I know, don't worry," he teased, "I got your fancy beer in the fridge too."

Brennan ducked her head and smiled, moving to set up the Scrabble board. She was all set when he walked in five minutes later, two beers in hand and looking a lot more comfortable in a pair of grey sweats and an obviously often worn shirt.

He took a seat on the plush chair opposite hers. The small table between them was perfectly sized for the game board and their bowl of popcorn. Brennan deliberately organized her tiles on her small scrabble shelf, feeling extremely pleased with her plan. Already he looked more relaxed, taking a sip of his beer and organizing his own tiles.

"So …" Booth reached for the popcorn and smiled at finding it perfectly salted. "I hope you know I'm very good at this game. And I ain't going to go easy on you."

Brennan gave him a haughty look. "I speak six languages, Booth."

"Yeah, but we're playing in English." She didn't say anything and he stopped aligning his little row of tiles, raising his head to look at her. "Right?"

"I don't see why," she said, all innocence. "I'm sure that you have an extensive legal vocabulary that I'm unfamiliar with, but I'm more than happy to let you use it."

His eyes narrowed. He knew a challenge when he heard one. "Including the Latin?"

"Of course," she allowed generously.

"Fine, but you can only use words that have direct translations," he countered, figuring he needed to even the playing field at least a little. "No words that are only used in the language and have no direct equivalent in English."

Brennan hesitated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. "Those terms are satisfactory."

"Why do I feel like I just got conned?"

**-x-**

She wasn't quite kicking his ass. But he was losing and at the rate she was racking up the triple word scores, it was going to turn ugly fast.

He studied the board, forcing himself to concentrate on the game and not on the way she was all casual and relaxed across from him.

_Okay, focus. You're a damn Supreme Court justice. If you're going to get your ass handed to you, at least put up a fight. _

Using her O from_ huesos_ he racked up a nifty thirty points and closed the gap considerably by placing _arguendo_ over a space that gave him a triple word score. Brennan frowned as she tallied up his added points and murmured the word to herself.

"Means for the sake of argument," Booth explained with a chuckle.

"More Latin," Brennan mumbled, feeling like maybe she had miscalculated just a little bit allowing him to use the legal terms that were in Latin.

Booth nearly laughed as her lips pursued. Her eyes scanned the board and her tongue came out to lick at her bottom lip in concentration.

_Oh, damn. _

If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was deliberately tempting him. With any other woman, that would have been his first thought. The soft scent of her shampoo, the way her fingers would absentmindedly brush against his if they both reached for popcorn at the same time, the way her teeth would sink into her luscious bottom lip as she considered her next word…all of it could be traced back to flirtatious seduction. But by now, Booth knew her well enough to know that it wasn't seduction—at least, not deliberate on her part. He also figured she didn't even know that she was absolutely crossing all of his wires on every level.

All of a sudden, she met his eyes in pleasant surprise, and he froze, wondering if he'd said the words out loud. But no, she was just smiling in almost childlike victory as she placed four strategic tiles on the board and smirked, picking up her pencil and adding a double digit number to her score column. He blinked and looked at the word. Another triple word tally for her.

"_Ossa_?" he repeated, the four letters combining for twelve points.

"Yes," she replied in her slightly breathless tone. "Italian for bones."

"Ah!" he huffed. "Again! What is it with you and that word," he complained, but he was smiling and Brennan felt that smile all the way down to her toes.

"It's just coincidence," she replied. "I am merely playing the optimal combination of acquired letters based on the available cells on the playing board."

"Mmm, well, now I know how to say bones in four different languages," he said playfully and considered the board for his next move.

The lighting in the library was muted and felt seductively intimate and casual, as if their tension couldn't penetrate the rows of stately bookshelves and historical American artifact replicas. His shirt was white and his smile even whiter, and when he flashed his teeth toward her, she was inexorably pulled toward his magnetism.

Brennan felt nearly mesmerized by his eyes, the way they communicated warmth and affection and a desire to relax. That she had provided that for him was making something inexplicably tighten in her stomach. He genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself and when his lips pursed in concentration, she felt nearly breathless. Without even trying, he drew her in. It seemed like everything about him appealed to her.

Watching him, seeing all that riveted concentration on a game, it was impossible not to wonder what it would be like if he focused all of his attention on her. She shivered and clenched her fists, unable to censor her mind. It was undeniable that she wanted nothing more than to reach over and tug at his shirt. To pull him close to her and lead him to her bed and see what happened next, regardless of the consequences. And that was what shocked her the most. She always planned for every possibility, and yet with Booth … she just wanted to let go.

_Just. Let. Go. _

Strip him down to the skin and kiss every inch of his body. Feel him beneath her, inside her. _All over her_. And for the first time that she could recall, beyond the sex, Brennan truly wanted to know what it would be like to wake up to a man the next morning. To _this _man. The truth was that she could all too easily imagine the warm skin of his stomach against her bare back and his arm wrapped around her waist. The feel of his lips against the back of her neck and the soft sound of his breathing next to her. She could picture it so very easily and the crystal clear image terrified her and made her yearn in equal measures.

It was obvious she needed distance. From him and his impossibly appealing presence. And yet, here she was, unable to stay away and loathe to see their game end. However, every molecule of her body was tuned to him and so when he stifled a yawn, she noticed. "It's late," she murmured automatically.

His eyes flickered to the half-full bag of remaining tiles. "Nah," he shrugged a shoulder. "I'm good. Just been a long day, that's all."

"We could always come back to the game another time," she offered softly and cleared her throat. "That is…if you want to."

Booth felt everything grow warm, and he met her eyes, hoping his surprise didn't show on his face. "Sure," he rasped out. "Um…tomorrow night? Same time, same place?"

Her brow furrowed. "I mean," he clarified, stretching his back. "Meet you here tomorrow night? Around ten?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded and then smiled. Booth nearly groaned at her sweetness. He knew she was fierce, but there was something special about this time with her, and he knew he'd never be able to walk into his library again without imagining her exactly like this.

He watched as she primly placed her tiles on the table, face down, and he didn't bother to hide a smile. "Ah, you think I'd cheat and look at your letters, hmmm?" he teased in a low voice that sounded flirtatious even to his own ears. But if she noticed, she didn't let on and just arched one perfect eyebrow in his direction.

"You might need to," was all she said as she stood and picked up the bowl now holding only a few unpopped kernel duds and traces of salt.

Booth laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair, watching her. "I probably should. I'm gonna go Google all the different translations for the word 'bones' for starters."

She smiled then and turned, walking toward the library door and looking back to him when she reached it. "Very funny. I might do my own search on legal terms, you know."

It was a taunt, and he smiled, feeling cocky and turned on. "It's on … bone lady," he smirked and laughed again when she rolled her eyes and left, leaving him alone to stare down at the game board.

**-x-**

It was a little over a week later when Booth realized that the best part of his day was always first thing in the morning and last thing before bedtime. And the one thing both times of the day had in common was playtime with her.

Exercise in the morning and Scrabble at night. Probably mundane as hell for nearly anyone else, but the most exciting thing in the world to him. It scared him a little, wondering how he could go back to living his life without sparring sessions and Scrabble games.

Booth frowned without even realizing it and was quickly reminded that distraction while sparring with her could be costly.

"That was low," he wheezed, at the last second deflecting a well-aimed kick to his groin.

She gave him an unrepentant grin. "Everything is fair in war and hand to hand sparring."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that goes," he panted, catching the kick she threw at him and holding her leg for a second before releasing it. Of course, she didn't give him a damn moment of rest, coming at him in a flurry of blows. He evaded and replied with his own careful assault. She was so damn fast, he barely had time to block the punch that had she landed it would have surely left some kind of bruise.

"A little slow there," she taunted, her own breathing just as heavy. "Looks like you've been spending a little too much time behind the bench, your honor."

"Oh, you're mocking me now," he growled playfully, rolling his shoulders back in determination. "See, I've been taking it easy on you these past few weeks 'cause you're so delicate and frail, but now it's on. No mercy."

Brennan laughed out loud, amused beyond belief by his smack talking. When they'd first started doing this, she'd been silent and focused, but he'd informed her that it would be no fun without a little trash talking. And then he pretty much demanded that she join in the activity, by taunting her constantly and then giving her that smile that said, _C'mon, it's fun, you know you wanna. _

Damn it, but he was right. It was fun. How had he managed to make an activity she'd never viewed as anything but a necessary duty, actually fun?

"You've been taking it easy on me?" she said innocently. "Well, that explains it."

Booth knew he was walking right into a trap, but he couldn't help it. "Explains what?"

"Why you've been easier to take down than a ten-year old girl." On the words, she went into a crouch, sweeping her leg out in a kick that caught him around the knees and effectively knocked him down to the floor mat.

"That's a lie!" he gasped, using his feet to take her down as well. She landed hard on top of him, but he took the hit and rolled until she was pinned under him. "You take that back right this second."

"Easy, so easy," Brennan taunted with a smirk that she knew drove him crazy. "One little tap and down you go."

"Why, you little liar." Booth chuckled at her sass. "Maybe you took me down today," he stressed before giving her a pointed look. "But hey, look at that, you're immobilized and out of commission."

It was true. She was pinned under him and not even making an attempt to escape. "Only because I don't want to hurt you." Her voice reeked with sincerity.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, not for a moment buying her bs. "C'mon, hurt me."

"Nope," Brennan refused, virtuously. "Apparently it's against federal law. You're a pretty big deal, it seems."

His eyes widened at her words and then he just cracked up. Without thought, his forehead dropped to hers as he tried to catch his breath, both from laughing and the exercise. "Damn, Brennan, you're funny."

"I am?"

"Yeah," he murmured, voice going soft without his permission. She looked so startled and yet pleased by his words, her cheeks rosy from their sparring and her eyes so wide and so innocent-looking. Her breathing was still slightly irregular and it ghosted across his lips. That's when Booth realized just how close he was to that sassy mouth of hers.

All of a sudden, he couldn't hear anything but his own pounding heartbeat and though he couldn't remember giving himself permission to move, his lips were brushing hers. Lightly, so lightly. Just enough to recognize that her gorgeous lips were also incredibly soft.

Too many nights of soft words, bickering, and banked desire had led to this and now he sank into her, drugged and dazed. Her lips parted because she was helpless too and their tongues meshed together, greedy and starving.

His only thought was that nothing had ever tasted so sweet. She could barely process the sheer addictive quality of his mouth. One hand gripped his work-out shirt, the other curled over his nape. The slight pressure of her fingers on his bare skin was enough to electrify him.

He moaned softly into her mouth and lost his tenuous grip on reality.


	13. Lines in the Sand

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Hope you're still with me!

**Lines in the Sand**

* * *

She locked the door again.

The simple act made his chest hurt and his body freeze outside her door. Maybe if she had screamed again, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from pounding on the door and demanding entrance, but suddenly there was utter silence and Booth swallowed thickly.

Last time, he promised she wouldn't be waking up screaming alone anymore. He'd told her nothing would stop him from pounding on that door and hugging her until the nightmare faded. And every part of him ached with the need to do exactly that. But the locked door was just another silent reminder that she didn't want or need him. Not in any way. Brennan had made that absolutely clear nine days ago and he was a fool for yearning for something—_someone_—that wasn't ever going to be his.

She made herself clear, Booth reminded himself again. He was nothing but a job and no matter how freaking right it felt to just _be_ around her, she had drawn one immutable line between them. He was working hard on trying to convince himself that it was for the best. That regardless of how much he enjoyed spending time with her, it would never work between them. Most of all, Booth was desperately trying to blame the intensity of the situation for the fact that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his life. Surely those feelings would wane once the asshole trying to kill him was caught. Surely, everything was amplified in a situation like this and if he just put enough distance between them, it would fade. Or at the very least, he would stop feeling like she had wrapped her fingers around his heart and begun to squeeze.

Booth stared at her door, unseeing. He wanted so badly to walk in there and hold her. Make her forget whatever nightmare haunted her with soft touches and soothing kisses. Right on the heels of that thought, the aftermath of that ridiculously amazing kiss hit him like a blow.

_"You shouldn't have done that." _

_Booth could hardly believe her. She'd scraped her fingernails down his back and kissed him like her life depended on it. "You were kissing me too, you know," he'd pointed out, his voice more of a growl than he'd intended. _

_Her facial features had flinched for an instant and then she was perfectly composed. "An error in judgment."_

_"A what?"_

_"It won't happen again."_

The reminder was swift and left his stomach churning. Right. Error in judgment. She didn't want him or his kisses. How much of a fool did it make him that he wanted to offer her what she had so summarily rejected?

He damn well had to learn to keep his distance. Except, he wasn't capable of giving up the time that was just theirs. Despite the professional line in the sand she'd drawn, Brennan always showed up for their sparring sessions and Scrabble games and so did he. But even those slips were far and away from bursting into her room and wrapping his arms around her.

_Distance_.

Distance was crucial. He repeated the word silently and stopped himself from knocking on the door. But he was still a fool because he just couldn't make himself walk away. Tiredly, Booth leaned back against the polished wood and sank down to the floor. Knees up, head in his hands, he simply sat there for a long while. He was only wearing a thin T-shirt with a pair of boxer shorts and the floor was cold, but he couldn't move. Because if she had another nightmare, he was going to bust down that door and forget all about his distance plan.

**-x-**

She woke up screaming and for the first time since meeting Booth, she woke up alone. Her sleep tank was plastered to her and Brennan pushed back the covers and rushed from the bed.

Stripping efficiently, she made her way to the bathroom and turned the shower to its coldest setting. Her tears mixed with the freezing water, but she wasn't even aware. And if she had been, Brennan would have been unable to say for certain whether they were due to the nightmare or the fact that he was actually listening to her and keeping his distance.

After her shower, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and sat heavily on the bed. A look at the clock told her it was nearly four in the morning and she knew any more sleep was out of the question. She was exhausted and to be perfectly honest with herself, she was feeling rather pathetic. Because he wasn't there to hug her.

"Damn it, Booth," she cursed quietly.

He had told her she was loud enough to wake him up wherever he was in the house, which meant that he was taking her professional line to heart. Of course, he was. What else did she expect? Just because he had fought her on nearly everything else, it didn't mean, he was going to fight her on this.

She'd made a mistake. She made a mistake kissing him and she was going to pay for it for a long time because there would be no way to forget the way his lips slid so silkily against hers. Or the way his hands tugged her ponytail loose and then threaded greedily through her hair. Really, nothing about having him over her, kissing her as if that was the single most important thing in the world, was remotely forgettable.

And now, not only did she know what he tasted like, but Brennan had discovered that she missed him terribly. Despite continuing with their Scrabble games and morning exercise, the easy companionship they had settled into had disappeared between them over the last week and Brennan knew it was because he was respecting her wishes and keeping his distance.

No more teasing. No more shared late night meals. No more kissing and flirtation and hugging her after a nightmare. The thought made her lie down on the bed and curl into a tight ball.

It was necessary. It was for the best. She had to keep him alive and she couldn't let her objectivity be compromised any further. And if she was brutally honest with herself—and Brennan always was—she also knew that an assassin was not the only thing she was protecting him from.

Over the past several weeks, she'd been doing what she did best. Studying and observing and analyzing and in the process becoming utterly fascinated with a man for the first time in her life. She wanted to know more, she wanted to know everything and she knew, she _knew_, he would let her in. She had tasted it in that kiss.

He had told her all she had to do was ask and he would answer truthfully and Brennan believed him. He was willing to open himself up to her and she was terrified of what it would mean. Terrified that she would never be able to open herself up in the same way. It wasn't fair to him, he deserved more than that and she was determined to protect him from anyone and anything.

She just had to accept that she would never find out what it'd be like to have him touch and kiss every inch of her. She'd never know what it'd be like to have him deep inside her, to be surrounded by his scent and his skin. The list of all the things she would never discover began scrolling through her mind and it nearly made her get up and rush into his room. If she went into his bedroom right then, Brennan was almost certain she would know. She would know, once and for all. Maybe just for one night, but he'd be hers.

_Mine. _

Blocking her own thoughts, she simply squeezed her eyes shut. No. He didn't belong to her and he never would. It was for the best.

**-x-**

It was a Saturday and the compromise they reached nearly four weeks ago over his morning jogs did not apply to the weekends. And for the first time since their agreement, Booth was glad that there would be no sparing with her for the next few days.

He needed the time to fortify this whole keeping his distance plan. What he should really do was stop playing board games with her every night in his library before going to bed, but he could never_ not_ show up. Despite that, Booth was trying to stay away from her, he really was. But it was depressing how absolutely abysmal he was at the whole thing.

Like right now, when he was loitering in the kitchen, wondering if she was going to join him for breakfast. His eyes landed on a piece of paper attached to the fridge.

_Booth,_

_I need to purchase appropriate attire for tomorrow night. Agent Sullivan will stay with you until I get back. Don't go anywhere without him. _

On cue, his doorbell rang and Booth could barely contain his annoyance as he stomped to the door.

"I don't need a damn babysitter," he greeted Sully unceremoniously. "And obviously, the U.S. government is over-paying you if you have time to babysit."

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Sully said cheerfully.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your pretty doctor called me and asked for a favor." He sipped from his coffee cup and swept inside. "I'm a gentleman, Seel. I couldn't say no."

"I can't believe her. Like I can't take care of myself for two damn minutes." Booth turned around and headed back to the kitchen. "You know, I'm pretty sure I was doing that long before she came into the picture. And will continue to do so long after she's gone."

Sully gave a low whistle. "Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"I don't want to hear it."

With a critical eye, he watched Booth yank open a cabinet and take out a box of Cocoa Puffs. "You look like shit."

"Don't." His eyes were dark and hard. "I mean it."

"Hey, you think you're the only one with woman troubles?" He frowned just thinking of his own personal problems. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Do you?"

Sully raised his coffee cup in concession. "How about some cereal?"

"That's what I thought."

**-x-**

"Sweetie, that dress does nothing for you." Angela shook her head in despair. "Why do you want to hide all the assets that God gave you?"

"It wasn't God, it was genetics," Brennan corrected automatically. "And I'm not going to socialize, Angela. I'm going because I couldn't convince Booth to cancel."

"Yeah, yeah, you're just there to protect him." Angela had heard it already multiple times. "That doesn't mean you can't look good doing it. Here, try this one."

Brennan sighed, but taking the dress from Angela was easier than arguing. "I can't believe he's so adamant about this," she griped over the dressing room partition. "You know how much safer he'd be if he would just stay home?"

"Booth was in the Army. A lot of his friends are veterans." Angela placed a hand on her back, rubbing a little. "He goes to this fundraiser every year. It's important to him, Bren."

"Dammit, Angela, isn't keeping him alive more important?"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Feeling exhausted despite the obscene amount of hours she spent in bed every day, Angela took a seat. "It's not my fault, Brennan."

"I'm just frustrated," Brennan muttered, sliding the Angela-approved dress over her head. "He's so stubborn."

Angela sighed and rubbed a hand over her belly. Despite her attempt at lighthearted during the shopping trip, she was feeling anxious. In all honesty, she wished Brennan had convinced Booth to skip every single one of his social functions. As if sensing her anxiety, the baby kicked, startling her out of her thoughts. "Don't worry," she whispered to her tummy. "Bren will keep Uncle Seeley safe."

"Well …" Brennan walked out of the dressing room. "Does this meet with your approval?"

"Oh, wow. Booth is going to swallow his tongue when he gets a load of you."

"W-what?" She felt instantly startled by the comment. "Why would you say that? We're not…we never … we have a strictly professional relationship, Angela."

"I just meant that you look beautiful and any guy would realize it. I'm sure Jack would swallow his tongue too if he saw you right now." Angela's smile was angelic. "But way to get defensive there."

"I wasn't," she frowned. "I was merely clarifying."

"Right. Strictly professional. Got it." Her little shoulder shrug distilled innocence. "I'm sure the fact he's smoking hot hasn't even crossed your mind."

Brennan's eyes narrowed. "I'm not blind, Angela."

"Ah, so you have noticed."

Without a word, Brennan turned to the mirror and smoothed her hands over the dress. "I believe this dress will be satisfactory. It will allow me to conceal several weapons and maneuver easily should an emergency arise."

**-x-**

There was one important discussion Brennan had been trying to figure out how to start for days, but it was bound to annoy her so she kept postponing the inevitable. But that damn fundraiser of his was the following night and she couldn't keep delaying the conversation.

"If you're escorting someone tomorrow, I need to clear her."

The offhand comment had Booth's head snapping up from the game board. He scrutinized her silently before asking, "Do you mean that any date I have in the foreseeable future has to meet the Brennan standard?"

"I don't have a standard," she said, defensively. "But yes, your social guests need to be searched for weapons, briefed on security …"

"Fantastic." His eyes closed wearily. "I'm going solo, Brennan. So you can just stop worrying about security, all right."

Something about his voice made her feel even more defensive. "I'm just trying to do my job and I promise I will attempt to do it as discretely as possible. You can take a date to this event, Booth. You don't have to—"

He chuckled humorlessly. "Great. Thanks for the permission." Very precisely, Booth flipped his tiles face down and got up. He couldn't stay there with her another second. With her soft lips that he knew tasted so amazing and that neat little barrier of professionalism that she had erected so easily between them. "But like I said, security won't be an issue tomorrow."

Or any other day it would seem, unless he managed to get one frustrating woman out of his mind. That she could so easily tell him he was free to go out with someone else irritated him beyond belief.

"You're…leaving?" she asked, unable to keep a frown from her face. There were only a few words on the board, their game that night barely begun.

"Yeah," he shrugged a shoulder and walked toward the door. "I'm just … I'm tired."

"You work a great deal of hours. Even on the weekends." Brennan followed his lead and rose as well. "Perhaps … perhaps this is inadvisable."

Booth froze and turned carefully to face her. "What is?"

"Staying up late just to play a game." Her gaze went to the Scrabble board and then back to him. "You tend to get up very early and work for many hours. It seems unwise to forgo sleep for such a frivolous activity."

He stared at her and Brennan wanted to squirm. Even though it was true that he worked too much and didn't get enough sleep, she was already regretting her words.

"You know what, you're right." His voice was soft, but so devoid of its usual warmth, she felt cold. "Let's just call it an error in judgment."

Brennan nearly flinched. She wanted to tell him kissing him wasn't a mistake, that playing with him at night was the best part of her day, but the words clogged in her throat and she just nodded.

Booth nodded too. "I guess we all make mistakes." He opened the door and drew his own line. He was tired of feeling like an idiot. She wanted to pretend there was nothing between them, fine. "Don't worry, Brennan. I learn from mine."

Without another word, he walked out. The thought of no more Scrabble games with her made his stomach clench, but he was done wanting to be closer when she kept push him away. Maybe she drew him like no one ever had, but he was determined to resist her. He damn well _would_ resist her.

All he had to do was put his mind to it and forget all the things that made her irresistible.


	14. Beneath the Skin

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I'm glad so many of you are still along for the ride with this story. Enjoy!

**Beneath the Skin  
**

* * *

"Excuse me, may I cut in?" Sully grabbed Cam's hand without waiting for an answer and wrapped an arm around her waist. Her dance partner, a former U.S. Congressman, frowned, but stepped back.

"Smooth," Cam said dryly.

"Always." He grinned shamelessly. "You have any idea how gorgeous you look?"

"Are you here in your official FBI capacity?"

He shrugged. "I convinced Cullen to let me have a few agents mingling in the crowd."

Cam gave a nervous look around. "Do you think there's a chance Booth could get attacked here?"

"Honestly, no." He looked around the ballroom with a critical eye. "Brennan and I scoped every inch of this place a few days ago. There's no high ground and no place someone could stash a weapon, so unless someone slipped one past security, he's pretty safe tonight."

"You and Brennan, huh?"

"You're so hot when you're jealous."

She raised one haughty eyebrow. "Do I have reason to be?"

"Are you crazy?" His arm tightened around her waist and he pressed her indecently close to him. "One, Booth would kill me. But more importantly, I already got one woman I can barely handle and I'm nuts about her."

"Sully …"

"Come home, Cam." His head lowered, lips brushing over the shell of her ear. "I miss you so much."

Her eyes fluttered shut. God, she missed him too. "You'll find someone who can make you happy."

"I already have."

"Don't be stubborn," she whispered, feeling her resolve crumble piteously. "You remember our first date? You told me you wanted a houseful of children. I can't give you that, we'll never be able to—"

"I do remember our first date. And I knew then I wanted all that, the house, the kids, but I only wanted it with you."

Helplessly, she smoothed her fingers over his nape. "I know you believe that now, but—"

Sully's gaze went hard. "Don't second guess my feelings, Camille."

"Don't you think this is hard for me too?"

"I don't know. I hope it is," he admitted. "I hope this is tearing you up as much as me because that means you won't be able to stay away for much longer." Her dark eyes flashed defiantly, but he didn't care. She was breaking his heart every day and he just wanted her back. "I had to hear about your new job from Booth, Cam," he said bitterly. "I'm the person you're supposed to share that stuff with first. All the good stuff and the bad, I want to be that person."

The song ended and another one started, but neither one moved. "I'm sorry. I should have told you." But she'd been a coward, staying away from him as much as possible because her willpower was pathetic. "I miss you too, Sully."

At her admission, he immediately softened. Camille Saroyan was stubborn and always thought she was right and rarely changed her mind once it was made up. But he was her weakness and he knew that. This whole mess was killing her too; she was just dealing with it in a completely different way. Sully knew he had to be patient, pushing her had never gotten him anywhere good.

"I promise you I'm not going anywhere," he whispered softly, but firmly. He was willing to give her time and space, but he was not going to give up. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

Cam sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, letting him sway her softly. In his arms, it was impossible to put up much of a fight. She knew she needed to get away from him and regroup, but right then she was willing to steal this moment for herself.

He recognized her temporary surrender and decided to enjoy it. Damn, it was good to hold her again. "Hey, guess who's driving Booth crazy?" he said, wanting to share in the fun with her.

Cam raised her head. "Timothy Sullivan, you're a horrible gossip." She sounded convincingly outraged, but her eyes were twinkling. "Besides, I don't need to guess. I already know."

"She has him totally unhinged. It's kinda funny."

She attempted a stern look, but couldn't help laughing a little. The truth was that Booth was very rarely rattled. Especially not about women and Cam remembered he had teased her mercilessly when she'd fallen in love with Sully. So maybe she was just a little bit amused at his predicament. "We're terrible friends."

"Something happened," Sully mused, "but I don't know what. You should have seen them yesterday. So very polite it was making my back teeth ache."

"Yeah, I haven't seen them say a word to each other since they got here." In fact, from what Cam could tell they were doing their absolute best to ignore each other. It was somewhat difficult, however, when Brennan was never more than a few feet away from Booth and he couldn't go more than a few minutes without veering his gaze back to her. "But if someone gets too close to Booth and makes a wrong move, she's—"

A commotion interrupted her words and had Sully drawing his gun. "What the hell?" He didn't bother telling Cam to stay put. "Just stay behind me."

He pushed past the crowd of people to the far end of the room where Brennan had an older man pressed against a wall, arm pinned to his back. Two FBI agents surrounded them, guns drawn and Booth looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Brennan!"

"Stay back."

"What's going on?"

Booth ignored Sully and disregarded Brennan's order. "Booth, stay back," she repeated in frustration. He didn't listen and in a fluid move, she palmed her gun.

"That's Justice Haddoes! You can put down the gun. All of you."

She didn't move. "Who?"

"_Chief _Justice Marcus Haddoes, to be exact," Booth stressed, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "God, Brennan, put the gun down."

"He was reaching for something. It could be a weapon."

"It's not a weapon, young lady." For a man who'd been thoroughly manhandled, Justice Haddoes was remarkably composed. "It's a letter opener."

Without lowering her guard an inch, Brennan reached inside his jacket and plucked out a thin box. Inside was a shiny letter opener engraved with the words _Justice Seeley J. Booth_. "Oh." Carefully, she released her hold on him. "Well, I couldn't have known." Out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen the man reach into his jacket and she had simply reacted. "Though, I will point out that this is sharp enough to also be a weapon."

"Well, in this case it is not," Justice Haddoes sniffed with considerable dignity. "It is simply a letter opener." He straightened his tux and turned to Booth. "I meant to give it to you earlier in the week."

Booth glanced at his distinguished colleague, now looking a little rumpled, and tried not to wince. He took the box and letter opener from Brennan's hand and tucked it away "Thank you, Marcus."

Sully signaled to his agents, who quickly dispersed and went to reassure the curious crowd of on-lookers. He wondered if Cullen was going to get a pissed off call from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court about having several FBI agents draw their guns on him. "Chief Justice," he said smoothly. "I'm Special Agent Sullivan. I'm sorry about all the commotion, but as I'm sure you're aware, there have been serious security concerns regarding Justice Booth."

"Of course, I'm aware. I suppose that will teach me not to make any sudden moves in your direction," he told Booth soberly before turning to Brennan with an appraising look. "I had heard you were quite dedicated."

Brennan had caused quite the commotion at the Supreme Court building over the last several weeks. Building security, Court police and any personnel that had routine contact with Booth had quickly become acquainted with her and subjected to her particular brand of thorough security measures. It seemed the effects of her presence had reached even the Chief Justice.

"Marcus, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan," Booth introduced, still feeling a little shell-shocked. One moment, he had been chatting with his former mentor, the next a Brennan-like blur had shoved the man against a wall. "She's trying to make sure my head stays on my shoulders."

"And doing an excellent job, it would seem." He extended a hand in Brennan's direction. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Brennan. What precisely are you a doctor of?"

"Applied Linguistics." She gave a firm handshake with the hand not holding her gun.

"Fascinating." And he was. The fact she had been one wrong move away from shooting him had been quickly forgiven. He was a man who appreciated intellect and uniqueness over most anything else. "And what makes you qualified to protect our brand new Justice, Dr. Brennan?"

"The training I acquired when I worked for the CIA."

"Ah." He smiled genially and Booth could see he was indeed quite captivated with Brennan. No surprise there. Marcus Haddoes was a brilliant legal mind. In the courtroom, he was stern and regal, brooking absolutely zero nonsense. But once the robes came off, he was quite a character, shamelessly addicted to spy thrillers and boasting the best sense of humor of anyone Booth had ever met. "You know, my dear, I believe you can put away the gun now."

Booth saw Brennan briskly part the side of her dress. The gun was neatly re-holstered on her thigh and his eyes nearly crossed. Jesus. How many weapons was she hiding and where?

He'd guessed she was probably armed to the teeth, but he hadn't been able to detect so much as one bulge marring the sleek perfection of her black sheath dress. And he had sure as hell looked. Despite his best intentions, Booth knew he had damn near eaten her alive with his eyes when he saw her tonight.

It burned him that she looked so goddamn desirable in what should have been a boring black dress. Sure, it had a side slit that went a few inches above her knee and some kind of off the shoulder neckline, but other than that, it was just like any number of black evening dresses. Except for the fact that she filled the damn thing out like a dream. He'd been thinking of little else all night but molding those killer curves and peeling her off that dress and Booth sincerely wondered if every man in the room had the same urge or if he had some kind of special susceptibility to her.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed without further incident. Chief Justice Haddoes chatted up Brennan for a bit while Booth mingled. The warning look in her eyes told him not to wander far and he didn't make the mistake of thinking she lost sight of him at any moment. Booth had been to enough of these things to know when it was time to head home. And though he was usually a social person, he was glad when the evening ended. Between the possibility that someone could try and kill him and the tension of pretending he wasn't aware of Brennan every second of the night, he was exhausted.

"Justice Haddoes says we are to make arrangements to go to his house for dinner."

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"When exactly?"

Brennan blinked. "I'm not sure. He didn't specify." She bit at her lower lip unconsciously. "I … I tried to explain about security, but he was adamant."

For a moment, Booth took his eyes off the road to peek at her. "Adamant, huh? Does that mean you actually agreed?"

"I—yes." She sounded utterly bemused. "I didn't mean to agree, I just … he was very reasonable and I—I'm not sure what happened."

"Ah." Against his will, Booth's lips quirked up. "Well, don't worry, it's happened to the best of us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you know," he shrugged. "Marcus is very persuasive. It's his magic power."

"No. There's no such thing as magic."

"Sure there is." Automatically, he felt his lips curve into a grin, but she no longer looked bemused, only remote and his smile banished. "Right," he muttered. "Don't know what I was thinking."

She didn't respond and he bit his lower lip to keep from saying something stupid. The rest of the car ride was made without another word. Several times, Booth yanked at his bow tie, feeling stifled.

They'd been in a car together numerous times, but never before had their car ride been so stilted. Brennan, despite her general level of obliviousness, was acutely aware of the difference. The darkness outside, combined with the checked silence that had been prevalent between them all night made everything feel cramped, somehow. She wasn't one for unnecessary movements, but she still shifted a little in her seat, feeling incredibly aware of Booth. It was her job to be aware of his surroundings, but when _she_ was his surroundings, there was nothing to do but be intimately aware of the draw between them.

Surreptitiously, Brennan looked at him out of the corner of one eye. She'd been looking at him all night and still couldn't get over how outrageously gorgeous she found him. His shoulders filled his tuxedo jacket to perfection and the thought of sliding him out of that thing and running her hands all over him heated her up from the inside out.

He had yanked on his bow tie until it hung loose around his neck and she found it unreasonably sexy. Her eyes skimmed over his lips and tense jaw line. One particular woman's lips had been unpleasantly close to the smooth line of his jaw while they danced tonight. Her eyes closed to erase the image. She needed to stop thinking about the gritty way her throat felt when he danced with a few other women tonight, forget about the way her blood seemed to sizzle when she felt his eyes on her.

The way she felt possessive over his person was disturbing her. Despite the fact that they'd been keeping their distance from one another as much as possible, she felt the constant pull to get closer. Her inability to keep control of her emotions around this man had Brennan completely rattled. But she'd never been the type to gloss over the facts. She wanted him. She liked him. She needed to protect him.

It was ever more apparent that her objectivity was getting severely compromised. The rational thing to do would be to find someone else competent to protect him. Yet no one came to mind. Sure, she had a few colleagues she had trusted in her previous line of work, but no one she would trust absolutely with his safety. Despite her constant reminders that this was just a job, Brennan knew just how much of a lie that was. She might be able to walk away from a job, but she'd never be able to walk away from Booth knowing there was someone out there still trying to hurt him.

That someone could and would, given the opportunity, hurt him made her crazy. He was so warm and fun and full of humor. He was so many things she craved and yet so much the opposite of her. And incredibly enough, he seemed to react to her so differently that anyone else. No one had ever found her amusing, but he thought she was funny. Brennan knew she came across as cold and remote, but yet, he would look at her as if he could see beneath her skin to the passion she so carefully controlled. With the possible exception of Angela, until Booth, almost no one ever teased her or expected her to play. But he did. He teased, he joked, he invited her to play. At least, he had. The stark contrast of the last few days made her throat hurt. The reminder that it was for the best sounded hollow even in her head.

**-x-**

Booth's fingers flexed on the steering wheel and he forced himself to look straight ahead as he drove. Several times his lips parted, and he had to force back words. He didn't actually know what he was going to say, and that was damn dangerous. If he wasn't careful, he'd start spouting off pleas for them to go back to the way things were—lighthearted and warm and damn near perfect.

Somehow he'd gone from desperately wanting her out of his house to desperately wanting her in his bed to desperately just wanting…her. Morning jogs and late night games and popcorn followed by sweet kisses and hot sex and… damn it.

She'd said it was a mistake, he said he'd learned from his and the word still cut at his insides like a knife. That in less than a month, she had acquired the power to hurt him worried the hell out of Booth. That it didn't worry him enough to truly want to stay away from her was pure craziness. He'd been in a room with many, many gorgeous women that night—some of whom had even graced his bed before—but he'd only had eyes for Dr. Temperance Brennan. He'd danced and mingled and said all the right things, but he'd been aware of her every damn moment of the night. She'd been calm and collected for most of the evening, and more times than Booth cared to admit, he'd had to clench his fists to keep from pulling her into his arms and holding her there.

Booth shifted in his seat and then mercifully, he was pulling into his driveway and with a flick of a button, the expansive garage door was opening. Despite the formality of the evening, he'd known her long enough to know she wouldn't appreciate him trying to open her door for her. Something painful thudded against his chest. Yeah, less than a month, but he knew her. Not only that, but he wanted to know more and even if he never did, he also knew that he'd go the rest of his life remembering her.

Booth got out of the car and stifled the urge to open her door, but he did pause in the open doorway and motion for her to enter the kitchen in front of him. Through the darkened and empty rooms, he heard the soft strains of Sinatra, low and brassy. He'd forgotten he'd left the music on when he'd been preparing for the evening. Standing in his master bedroom, he'd perfected his bow tie to upbeat rhythms. But now the music was soulful …calling out to lonely hearts.

"You left the music on."

"Yeah." There was hardly any light, the darkness creating the most sinful intimacy. "Must have forgotten. We were, um, running a bit behind."

Brennan flushed. Concealing weapons under an evening dress had been tougher that she remembered. "I know. That was my fault. I'm sorry—"

"No. Don't." Her soft voice was very close to him. She had stepped closer and he felt incapable of moving back. "Brennan."

"Booth, I …" If there had been more than a sliver of moonlight, he would have seen her swallow. "G-good night." She moved, unsure whether she was walking away or getting closer.

It hardly mattered.

One hand shot out to grab her wrist and in the next moment, in the middle of his kitchen, she was in his arms. Booth felt her tense for just a moment and he realized he was lucky she hadn't flattened him to the cold, tiled floor in one deadly move. And then he realized he was just lucky to be this close to her. Somehow they were swaying in time to the music, and he felt her hands slide around his neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he pulled her even closer, brushing his cheek against hers and barely keeping himself from burying his face in her hair.

Brennan thought she must be in some kind of trance because she was melting completely into him. She knew the general shape of his body—he'd been pinned beneath her more than a few times while they sparred—and now her hands slowly traced over his back and shoulders, and her fingers brushed just up against the hair at the back of his neck. Being in his arms felt right in a way she didn't want to analyze. Not just yet.

He smelled ridiculously good—a combination of his aftershave and natural scent, and she couldn't help but smile, remembering their conversation about cologne.

_"You don't seem to wear any…" _

_"Because it smells like perfume…" _

She remembered that he'd grinned at her with perfect teeth and smiling eyes, and the memory of it made her instinctively press closer to him, incapable of stopping herself. She wanted to rest her cheek on his chest, but settled for keeping her chin near his shoulder. The music floated around them, and for the first time in a long time, she wondered what it would be like if her life had gone differently. If she met him a long time ago, back when her family was still alive, back when she still felt relatively close to normal. Had that been the case, would this…taut thread of tension between them still be as strong and irresistible? Temperance Brennan didn't believe in fate or star-crossed anything, but she was finding herself hard-pressed to imagine a world without him.

The song ended and Sinatra crooned the first few bars of the next one. Booth couldn't let go, all he could think of was how incredibly appropriate this particular song was; the woman in his arms had certainly gotten under his skin. He held her just a fraction closer and his lips just barely brushed the shell of one ear. _Under my skin and all the way to the bone_.

Brennan couldn't see his eyes, but she was sure they were dark and heavy-lidded. Just as they had been the morning he'd kissed her. And just like then, she wanted to wrap herself around him and beg him to carry her to his bed. She wanted to run her hands all over his chest and peel off every stitch of fabric between them.

_Booth_.

They were no longer dancing and when Booth leaned back a little, Brennan realized she'd whispered his name out loud. Very slowly, his hands slid down her back until they were gently cupping her hips. His eyes flickered to her lips and Booth wasn't sure how he was going to go another night without feeling her warm and naked under him.

When she swayed forward and buried her face against his neck, his eyes slammed shut. Instinctively, Booth gripped her rounded hips tighter in his hands. At the feel of her cool lips, his own parted in a soundless gasp. His cheeks flushed as carnal thoughts rushed through his mind—dark and sensual words he imagined whispering in her ear as he ran his hands all over her body. He was one breath away from hiking up her dress and hauling her fully against him so she could wrap those mile-long legs around his waist.

_Damn it_. Not fair. So not fair that she could do this to him with hardly any effort. As quickly as he'd yanked her against him, he released her. With a shuddering breath, he took a step back, breaking all physical contact.

In the pristine silence, it was impossible to disguise their uneven breathing. He was no longer touching her, but Booth was still close enough that he could easily smell her. With every breath, it felt like he was drowning in her. He could still feel her under his hands, the warmth of her seeping all the way beneath his skin.

_Walk away. Walk away now_, he willed her silently. It had to be her because he was rooted in place, unable to move. _If I breathe you in one more second, I'm making you mine_.

Brennan must have read his mind because with a soft rustle of black silk, she turned and fled.


	15. Irresistible Frenzy

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Oh, man, my technical clumsiness has been revealed. I'm afraid this time FF is not to blame, I just didn't upload the right chapter. Thanks to those that alerted me. All right, no more chit chat... enjoy! Oh, and I really hope you'all let me know what you think of this one. :)

**Irresistible Frenzy**

* * *

She felt like a coward.

The feeling was alien and highly uncomfortable and it had her tossing and turning in her bed for over an hour.

She also felt restless, like her skin was itching from the inside out. With a groan of frustration, Brennan jumped out of bed. Sleep was going to be impossible. Her skin wasn't really itching, she realized. It was just the feel of him still heating her up and making her want to scream.

The need to wrap herself around him and devour him pulsed like a heartbeat. Earlier, Brennan thought he might just pick her up and take her right there in the middle of his kitchen. Her own body had nearly vibrated with the irresistible impulse to attack him. In her mind, she had already stripped him and was running her hands feverishly all over him. The overwhelming need had shocked her and in a second of sanity she had practically run to her room. Almost immediately, she resented that one second of clear thinking. Resented it bitterly.

Barefoot, she walked out of her room, turning on a hallway lamp to light her way. Brennan headed for the kitchen, unsure whether she was going to pour herself a glass of water or a shot of tequila. She didn't bother to turn on any other light and at the kitchen archway, her gaze instinctively went to the spot where they'd danced just a few hours ago.

Her eyes slammed shut, allowing herself to imagine a completely different end to their dance. The slightest noise at her back had her whirling around to find Booth standing there. He was bathed in the soft light from the hallway and she could see he was wearing only a pair of boxers. Her heartbeat accelerated even as she tried to school her features to indifferent calm.

"Brennan."

"Your Honor."

His back stiffened at her use of his title. He already knew she only used it when she was taunting him or when she wanted to keep him at a distance. From the remote look on her face, he could guess which situation this was.

"Why are you up?"

"Why are you?" she shot back quickly, almost belligerently and his eyes narrowed. Booth searched her face, wondering if she'd had a nightmare, but he hadn't heard her scream and she didn't look vulnerable in any way. She looked pissed and ... His eyes flickered over the thin tank top that couldn't hide her stiff nipples.

"I'm pretty sure for the same reason you are," he ventured, surprising them both. Her nostrils flared and he knew she understood his meaning.

"Go back to bed." She tried to make it sound like an order, but it sounded more like a plea.

Automatically, he walked forward, like a damn moth to a flame. "And do what? Spend the rest of the night tossing and turning and pretending I'm not so freaking hard it hurts?"

"Booth ..."

But by the time she whispered his name, his arms had already closed around her, hauling her into him and letting her feel for herself the predicament he'd just described. "It's for you. Every damn night all I can think about is crawling into your bed and then sliding inside you."

"This is a mistake," she whispered, but it wasn't a denial. The words were actually his permission.

"I don't care." He really didn't. Struggling against the constant need was simply exhausting and he was so tired of fighting it. "And the only way I'm walking away is if you tell me you don't want me." His arms tightened around her. "Say it."

He was daring her to lie, but even if she'd been inclined to do so, the words would have never moved past her throat. "We're both going to regret this," she warned instead, even as her hands began to stroke his bare chest.

Booth didn't bother to correct her. The only regret he had was that she was still wearing clothes when he was already very nearly naked. Quickly, he was remedying the disparity, tugging off her sleep tank and groaning deeply when her gorgeous breasts spilled into his hands. Automatically, he gave her a soft squeeze and she arched into him.

"Get inside me," she demanded.

He almost argued, wanting to explore every inch of satin skin under his fingers, but her hands shoving down his boxers and fisting his cock brooked no argument. With a growl, Booth yanked down her shorts and her panties. In the blink of an eye, she was naked before him and he was spearing two fingers into her.

"God," he gasped, feeling her slick, plump folds. "You're so ready."

"Fuck me." The hard language seemed almost soft when she breathed softly, "Please, fuck me."

Part of him felt like he should be slowing down and savoring this, but her naked, writhing body was simply making him crazed. She tugged on his boxers until they pooled at his feet. He stepped out of them and grabbed her hips. Long legs immediately wrapped around his waist. Blindly, he moved a few steps until he had her pressed against a wall. She rained a storm of open-mouthed kisses over his throat and when her mouth finally captured his, Booth returned the kiss wildly and drove inside her.

Their mouths moved in a frenzied duel of tongues and teeth, the kiss muffling their mutual groans of pleasure. Brennan threw her head back, gasping for air and he assaulted the pale length of her throat with a shower of wet kisses. Her fingers threaded through his hair, hips bucking against him.

Booth gave one careful thrust inside her, trying not to lose his mind. _Goddamn. So good. _

The fit was incredible and his vision nearly blurred. Or maybe it was just that the pleasure was making him cross eyed. She was so damn warm and tight and soft. Oh dear god, she felt fucking perfect and his body ached to pound into her again and again and again …

"Booth …" Her legs and arms tightened around him. "Oh … don't … don't stop …"

"_Shit_," he groaned, her breathy words making him realize that he was already stroking into her madly. "You feel so fucking amazing."

"More," she pleaded hoarsely, nails raking possessively over his back. "More, harder, deeper. I need … oh god … _don't stop_."

She sounded as desperate as he felt and his hands curved over her bottom to better hold her as his thrusts became frantic. Brennan shuddered as he slammed into her over and over again. _Yes. Yes. Yes_. This was how she wanted him. Completely out of control for her.

Pleasure gathered and pooled until she thought it might be quite possible to simply detonate from the blissful pressure. "Booth!"

She pulsed around him in wave after wave and Booth moaned harshly against the curve of her neck.

"_Bren_," he whispered roughly before he buried himself as deep inside her as humanly possible and just shattered.

* * *

**-x-**

**_Anticipated chapters make me anxious and tend to send me into nasty little writer's block, lol. I'm really sorry for the delay, but it could have been worse since I almost put this story on hiatus. I don't think that will happen, but updates on this story may take a little time. Since I've finally hit the M rating, maybe I will be forgiven, yes? :)_  
**


	16. Art of Self Deception

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I know it's been a while. I'm sorry. For those still reading, hope you like. This is kinda different, but it's just how it happened!

**Art of Self-Deception **

* * *

He slid over her until his chest was snug against her back, his arms and legs bracketing her body. "This one's going to be real slow."

Booth entered her from behind, slow and easy and bare. "How does that feel?"

"Oh god," she panted. "It feels good. So good. You know it does."

He did. And he knew that she felt amazing, silky and wet. And it made him dizzy how much she was trusting him. Just like he was trusting her.

**-x-**

_Dazed and stunned, they slipped to the floor of his kitchen and he slipped out of her body._

_"Brennan," he said quietly. "We didn't use any protection."_

_"I'm on birth control."_

_ "I shouldn't have—"_

_"It's fine. You don't have to worry about anything. I'm healthy."_

_"I wasn't worried. And you don't have to worry about it either," he added simply. _

**-x-**

Not for the first time that night, warm lips trailed down the curve of her back.

Brennan arched like a kitten into his touch. Something shockingly like a purr escaped her when he added little nips as his mouth traversed down. She hugged the pillow tightly and sighed when she felt him kiss the back of each knee. On the trek up, his teeth sank with some enthusiasm on the curve of her bottom.

"Hey," she protested weakly, but the light bite wasn't painful, just playful.

"You have a perfect, bitable ass," Booth praised, molding said ass with his hands. "Did you know that?"

Her response was a choked sound because he spread her legs and dragged a finger over her damp center. When his breath ghosted over her, she nearly jumped and when his tongue licked at her, Brennan groaned deeply into the pillow. Her knees pressed against the mattress and her back arched, trying to give him better access. His tongue plunged inside her and she cried out, wetness pooling mindlessly.

It might have been almost embarrassing how her body responded to him, except for the fact that he seemed like he could not get enough of it.

"Booth!"

He brought her to the edge with his talented mouth and then stopped. "You really think I'm not gonna give you what you need?" he murmured huskily.

**-x-**

_His knees felt too shaky to get up from the floor, so he just leaned back against the wall. Maybe she had a similar problem because she did the same. When her head actually dropped to his shoulder, he sighed. _

_"That was incredible."_

_"Booth—" _

_"So help me God, Brennan, if you call this an error in judgment—"_

_"No. No." Quick and adamant words. "I can't …I can't regret this." She met his eyes. "But … Booth, god, I'm here to protect you." On the words, her lips actually pressed a kiss on his shoulder. "Do you know how dangerous it is to become involved with you like this?"_

_"What are you saying?" _

_A deep breath that seemed to suck all the air out of the room._ _"I want you. That's obvious and pointless to deny. But we can't do this."_

**-x-**

"What are you thinking?"

"That you're wonderful," she said honestly. It amazed her that this warm, passionate man was actually naked and relaxed next to her. It seemed like it should be someone else—someone warm and good like him—taking this spot on his bed. "Why have you never remarried?"

Booth tensed automatically, but almost immediately relaxed. Of course she had checked up on him, his past, his background. And it wasn't a secret anyway. "Because I promised myself that if I ever got married again, it would be forever, not just for a few months."

Blues eyes scrutinized him until he almost shifted and then she said softly, "You were trying to do the right thing, weren't you?"

"What?"

"Your son," she explained. "He's ten. I did the math." Propping her head on one hand, she rested the other against his chest. He looked very serious and she regretted bringing up the subject. She was desperate to know him, but that didn't give her the right to intrude on his private life. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No," Booth said softly, automatically raising his hand to touch the one she had over his chest. "It's fine. Rebecca got pregnant and we got married and quickly figured out that even a baby is not enough to hold two people together when there's so much pulling them apart."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." His thumb rubbed over her knuckles. "It was a long time ago. And my son is the best thing about me. I could never regret that."

**-x-**

_"We can't … we can't become personally involved."_

_"I've got news for you, Brennan. We already are."_

_"No. Not if we don't do this again." _

_"That easy, huh?"_

_"No," she denied hoarsely. "That hard." Without thought, she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. "I need to protect you. This is serious, Booth. Someone is trying to kill you. I can't …" She took a deep breath and buried her face against his neck. "I won't let that happen."_

_His heart beat faster and he threaded his fingers through her hair. "Goddamn it," he said softly in acceptance. _

_As much as it killed him to accept it, he knew she was right. Even if he didn't want to give a damn about some nutjob out to get him, he did understand the need to take it seriously. _

_And he understood what she was saying. Some lines just couldn't be crossed, no matter how much they chafed. _

**-x-**

"I can't sleep."

Booth held her closer. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?"

"Anything, doc." His chin rested atop her head and he stroked a hand over her back. "Tell me something about you I don't know."

"Maybe we shouldn't reveal personal—"

"Brennan."

She sighed. "My brother practically raised me. My parents died when I was twelve and it was just me and Russ."

Immediately, Booth pictured a twelve-year-old Temperance Brennan. He'd just bet she had been all big blue eyes and sassy attitude, even at twelve. "I'm sorry. That must have been tough."

"Yes. I was a very difficult child," she said in a tiny voice. "I haven't talked to him in a long time."

"Why not?" Booth asked softly.

Her shrug was wordless, but distilled vulnerability. "My job … it was better not to …" Another shrug. "It doesn't matter. He's married. He has a family." One that didn't include her. Booth could practically hear the unspoken words.

"You're his family too," he offered quietly.

She didn't say a word and his arms tightened around her.

**-x-**

_"We really gonna forget this happened?" he asked against her lips._

_"We have to. You know we do." Her lips opened under his. "Otherwise …"_

_"Yeah. Just … lemme …mmm." One hand fisted in her hair, the other stroked down her bare back and cupped her hip. "Fuck, Bren."_

_She moaned and shifted fully onto his lap. Booth slid until his back hit the floor with her on top of him. He palmed her bottom and captured her mouth again. Rolling until she was under him, he slid home in one smooth stroke. _

**-x-**

Booth closed his eyes and just absorbed the way she felt. Snug and hot and blissfully wet. "I fit inside you so damn good."

"I want to come," she whispered, her body trembling on the edge.

Booth shuddered at the needy words. He brushed aside her mass of hair, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "I'll give you whatever you want."

His arm tightened around her waist, nestling her tighter against his chest. At first, he was soft and gentle, but soon enough, she began to gasp and moan in demand. In response, he picked up the pace. Even after she came, he didn't stop.

"Again."

"Booth—"

"Don't argue with me," he warned breathlessly, sliding a hand down her stomach and between her legs. "Jesus, you're wet. Come for me again."

He rubbed her clit and thrust into her until she couldn't think straight. Her body didn't even try to put up a fight. It just wanted more of that blissful torrent of pleasure he kept drowning her with, it just wanted more of him. "Come with me," she moaned, clenching around him and desperately wanting him to come apart with her. "_Booth_."

"Yeah," he gasped, pleasure battering his body in a vicious onslaught. "_Fuck … yeah_."

He pulsed and lost it, feeling her orgasm and crashing into his own. She gasped in air and he smoothed a hand down her back. "You okay?"

Brennan snorted and rolled until she was on her side, facing him. "I didn't think it was possible to be this relaxed."

He smiled and circled her waist, fitting her against his body. "I know what you mean."

She settled against his chest and he stroked her hair.

**-x-**

_He helped her up from the floor and into her clothes. That she let him told him she was feeling as raw as he was. _

_Brennan stared at him, unable to walk away. He was having the same exact problem._

_"Booth …" _

_"Come here."_

_She went into his arms and he hugged her tightly._

_"C-can I spend the night with you?"_

_"What?"_

_"It's not fair," she whispered into his bare chest. "I want this one night with you."_

**-x-**

The digits on the clock blinked at her mockingly. Time was running out.

With a little sigh, Brennan shifted to her side. Gently she traced her fingertips over his jaw and his lips. He looked very peaceful like this. Almost like a little boy. Which was just a bit strange because he was most certainly a fully developed man.

Her hand trailed down over his chest, pushing down the white sheet. He groaned a little when her fingers slipped over his abdominals, tracing the muscles. She continued her exploration, watching his face. There was so much about him she wanted to discover and there was so little time.

He hardened in her hand before his eyes were fully open. Brennan trailed a line of kisses straight to his groin and he moaned himself awake.

"_God_," he gasped huskily, hands shooting into her hair. Male hips bucked into her mouth even as he whispered, "Stop." She murmured her denial against his heated flesh and Booth felt all his control spiraling into her mouth. It was finally the rare use of her first name and the choked "please" from his lips that had her shifting over and sinking into him.

Waves of brown hair curtained around him, blocking everything else out. His hands splayed on her back, the slight sting of fingernails dragging down the curve of her spine. "Open your eyes." She did and he kissed her.

Her body flowed over his in perfect rhythm. His back arched, heart thundering. Brennan breathed his name again and again with increasing desperation and his fingers dug into her skin hard enough to leave marks.

She collapsed against him, feeling branded. He breathed her in, feeling owned.

**-x-**

_Booth tipped her chin up. "Are you sure about this?"_

_"No." Not even a little bit. "But I want … I hope that …" She struggled to explain, but he understood._

_"You think one night and we'll be able to get this out of our system?" He probably should have been offended, but the truth was that he understood where she was coming from. Part of him—the part frantically going into self-preservation mode—was thinking the same thing. It was terrifying how much she made him feel and just like her, he disliked feeling out of control. Perhaps, one night was all they needed to get back their equilibrium. _

_"I don't know," she murmured softly. "Maybe."_

_"Yeah." Was it crazy to think that an entire night coming inside her would be enough to satisfy him? "Maybe."_

_Without another word, he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom._

**-x-**

When she slipped out of his bed, Booth was awake, but he didn't say a word.

If she knew he wasn't sleeping, she didn't let on. The quiet snick of his door closing made him open his eyes and look at the clock. In less than an hour he had to be up and heading to work. Considering he'd probably gotten less than a few hours of sleep, the prospect seemed rather daunting.

But that was nothing compared to facing her across the breakfast table and uttering a rather inane, "Good morning."

There were shadows under her eyes, testament to her own lack of sleep. They seemed especially deep against her pale skin. "Good morning."

Breakfast was a silent affair. The drive to the Supreme Court pretty much the same. They skipped their morning sparring session and Booth wondered if there would ever be playtime with her again. Just like that he knew they were fooling themselves.

Her gaze caught his for just a moment and he swallowed back the humorless chuckle. Once and never again. That was the deal. They had both agreed it was for the best.

_Oh, we are so full of shit._

* * *

**-x-**

**_p.s. I'm sorry that this seems to be getting only monthly updates. Even when I tell myself I will pick up the pace, life gets in the way. Unfortunately, BB fics don't pay the bills, lol. Hope you're still with me, even through the posting gaps. :)_  
**


	17. Unqualified

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: First of, happy birthday to **angiebc**! This chapter brought to you by the lovey **_Dispatch_** and _**Angie's**_ birthday.

**Unqualified**

* * *

"You're distracted," Booth noted. "I know because I'm winning and you haven't used bones even once." It had become their own private joke since the night they had first played together. She used the word as often and in as many languages as she could and he pretended to pout about it.

Brennan looked up from the game board with a slight frown and leaned back. Booth battled the urge to reach out and smooth the tiny line between her brows. "C'mon, bone lady, what's going on?"

"Agent Sullivan's investigation has stalled," she grumbled.

He immediately heard the dissatisfaction in her tone and sighed. _Oh, boy_. "Aw, c'mon, Bones—"

Her eyes flashed. "No, do not use silliness to distract me," she warned knowingly. Almost absently, she added, "And stop calling me that."

He just grinned. He heard it before, but Booth was fairly certain she didn't really mean it. "Stop worrying."

"How can you be so calm?" she hissed. "There's someone out there who's already tried to kill you once and we're no closer to figuring out who it is than we were the day it happened!"

He was perfectly aware how the lack of information frustrated her. The first week of October—when the Court would be in session loomed and the closer it got, the more tense she became. In just one week, he'd be presiding over oral arguments that were open to the public and Booth knew that particular fact had her on edge.

_"Anyone can walk in," she'd seethed._

_"Everyone has to go through security, Brennan," he'd soothed. _

"This is a professional hit, Booth. It has to be." Her words brought him back to the present. "Who else would use a military standard-issue M24?" she asked rhetorically.

Brennan pushed up from the chair to pace and Booth sighed. It wasn't the first time he had heard this. After going over the ballistics report, Sully and Brennan had come to the conclusion that whoever fired the shot was a pro. Only problem was, they had practically nothing to go on. Booth had resigned himself to wait, but Brennan's patience was in short supply.

"Brennan, turn your brain off for a minute," he requested, but by the look on her face, he knew their game for the night was over.

"I'm not satisfied with the pace of Agent Sullivan's investigation," she repeated stubbornly.

"Yeah, he's well aware," Booth said wryly. "Look, we both know he's doing everything he can. But he's an overworked federal agent and he has more than one case on his desk, you know."

Brennan couldn't have cared less about Sully's workload. There was only one thing that mattered to her and she was looking right at him. It worried her so much that there seemed to be nothing she could do except wait for his life to be in danger again. "I don't want another attempt on your life," she breathed, the words soft and intense. "There's someone out there looking to hurt you and we can't do anything but wait. That's not acceptable."

Her eyes locked on his and he saw her control waver. When she turned around and walked out of the library, he had to clench his fists so as not to walk out right after her. Letting his head drop back against his chair, Booth closed his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he followed her, wrapped his arms around her and held her, breathed her in, told her everything was going to be okay. But then he snapped his eyes open and he was back in control of himself.

There was a slight churning in his gut that never quite went away, but he could deal with that. In truth, Booth had become almost used to the persistent ache in the pit of his stomach. After nearly three weeks, it didn't even surprise him anymore.

Those first few days after they'd … _after_ … those had been the most difficult. And he knew why. It wasn't just the pretense, it was that they barely spoke, barely even looked at each other. Despite their unspoken agreement not to bring it up again, Booth had very nearly confronted her. The silent treatment, the sheer distance between them even when she was right next to him had been unacceptable. Keeping his hands off her was one thing, keeping his distance was another.

After four days of running the treadmill on his own, he'd been ready to crack. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say, maybe remind her that she was breaking the deal they'd made over a month ago. But on the fifth day she had shown up. In the morning, she took her place on the elliptical and then they sparred without a word. And that night, when he went by the library, she was there, bowl of popcorn and Scrabble board on the table.

And just like that, he'd known that she couldn't keep her distance either. And so for almost three weeks now, they'd been careful not to touch each other outside their morning sparring sessions, but it didn't matter. There were other ways to touch someone that had nothing to do with sex.

**-x-**

Brennan watched him prepare breakfast practically from beneath her lashes.

Her gaze followed the efficient movement of his hands. It had become her own private ritual. It was probably masochistic of her, but she enjoyed watching his long fingers move so precisely.

There was just an innate confidence about the way he did things that fascinated her. Even something as simple as scrambling an egg or placing a Scrabble tile on the board. So sure and full of confidence.

She could do nothing but watch him and be fascinated. That was something she had learned over the last few weeks. Of course, Brennan had discovered that nothing—_nothing—_could be better than touching him, but that was out of the question, so she settled for studying him.

It warmed her to know that she could gauge his mood by the way his body moved at the end of the day. Sitting across from her, staring down at the Scrabble board, she'd learned him intimately. Sometimes, he would spend the entire game teasing, lounged against the chair, gray tee, faded sweatpants. It made her smile to see him so relaxed. Most of those games, she won easily, he was simply more invested in conversation and teasing than the board in front of him.

And then there were the times when he came into the library without having changed clothes. White dress shirt, black slacks, loosened tie. He would untuck his shirt and roll up his sleeves to reveal tanned forearms. Those days, he didn't lounge back against the chair, instead he was all edge and focus. She knew that meant a long day added to the stress of his situation had cracked the façade of calm and good humor he usually portrayed. On those nights, she would be the one to tease—she wasn't as good as him, but when he smiled and she saw the way his shoulders shifted just a fraction in unconscious relaxation, it was worth every nonsensical thing that had come out of her mouth.

"Brennan, can you get that?"

"What?" She blinked, coming out of her reverie.

Booth chuckled, pointing with the spatula in his hand to the living room. "The door, Bones."

"Booth—"

"C'mon, you know you like it," he teased, unrepentant. "That's the doorbell. I know how it displeases you when I answer the door."

"Yes, you're terrible at following directions," she mumbled, hopping off the bar stool and walking out of the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she walked back in, Sully right behind her.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Booth asked in surprise. "Want some breakfast?"

"No," he said, the serious tone had Booth and Brennan immediately come to attention. "This is official. Kind of."

"What's going on, Sul?"

Sully sent Brennan a cautious glance. "You're not going to like this." He reached into his pocket, took out a clear evidence bag. "Sorry, Seel, but Pam Nunan still has a thing for you."

Booth just barely prevented himself from groaning. "What?"

"The mail center at the Supreme Court flagged this and notified me."

"Notified you?"

"Yeah, I had them flag any correspondence addressed to you that wasn't related to any case on the upcoming docket, and based on Dr. Sweets' profile, anything by Pam Nunan."

"I thought you said she hadn't contacted you since your appointment," Brennan practically snarled.

"She hasn't!" Booth said quickly. "I swear, I haven't seen or heard from her. I thought she had, you know …gotten over whatever weird thing she had."

"Well, apparently not." Sully gave the evidence bag in his hand a pointed tap against the kitchen countertop.

"Dr. Sweets said she was dangerous," Brennan hissed at Booth and he turned off the stove and raised his hands in a _don't look at me_ gesture.

"Okay, Bones, how is that my fault?"

Sully smirked. "Bones?"

Brennan gave him a deadly glare. She extended a hand and Sully dropped the bag in her hands. "Careful with that. It could be evidence."

She took a few steps away from them, reminding herself that overreactions were never helpful. Carefully, she pulled out the envelope and single sheet of paper out of its evidence bag. It was almost irrational, but the innocuous white envelope addressed to Justice Seeley J. Booth made her blood run cold.

Sully leaned closer to Booth, raising amused eyebrows. "Bones?" he repeated on a murmur.

Booth smiled automatically. "Don't call her that."

"A nickname?" Sully grinned. "That's real cute."

"She'll kick your ass," Booth replied, crossing his arms and watching Brennan read a single sheet of paper. "Doc … care to share?"

"She wants to wish you luck on your first session," Brennan reported.

Booth walked forward to stand beside her and read the paper resting so innocently on his granite countertop.

_Dear Seeley,_

_Best of luck next week. I know it will be your first session on the Court, but I'm sure you will thrive. To the first of many. _

_All my love,_

_Pam _

Nothing about the letter was threatening but he was seriously creeped out. "It's like she thinks we have a relationship or something."

"Dr. Sweets' profile indicates that delusions can often trigger psychotic breaks."

"Yeah, but whoever took a shot at Booth was a pro. Not some delusional woman," Sully argued. "And it doesn't track that she would hire someone to off you. That letter says to me that she still likes you."

"Lucky me," Booth said dryly.

"Point is, you haven't done anything to burst her bubble. Why would she want to hurt you?"

"Doesn't mean she's not dangerous," Brennan said tightly. "You should arrest her."

Sully laughed. "For what, Dr. Brennan? For wishing him luck?" He gave Booth a reproachful look. "Maybe if you had taken out a restraining order when I told you to, we could do something, but right now we have nothing."

"C'mon, Sul, you know it wouldn't have been that easy," Booth defended. "Even with all the calls and showing up in my courtroom all the time, she was free to do so. Trials are open to the public."

Sully sighed. "Honestly, at this point, all we can do is document her attempts to contact you and use it as evidence if this crap escalates."

"And if she tries to hurt him while you're _documenting_?" Brennan accused coldly. "Then that's what, a miscalculation?"

Automatically, Booth ran a soothing hand over her back. "Hey, you know she's not going to get anywhere near me."

"That's right, she's not," Brennan said, her voice so calm it was deadly. "Because I will kill her if I have to."

Sully winced. "Aw, doc, I'm a federal agent, please don't say things like that where I can hear you."

Brennan shot him a dismissive look and then turned to Booth. She took one step closer, her voice low and firm. "If she's a threat, she will be eliminated." An unqualified promise.

Her voice was so soft, almost emotionless and Booth realized it wasn't linguist Dr. Temperance Brennan speaking, but the CIA trained assassin. He knew, from the few times she had spoken of her past work that she struggled with this part of herself. But for him, she was willing to go right back there again and he practically vibrated with the need to wrap his arms around her.

Before he could obey the impulse, she turned on her heel and walked away.

"That's one intense woman," Sully voiced his presence.

Booth dragged a hand through his face. "Sully, I don't want this crazy woman near Brennan."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed. "You heard her. Brennan's not the one you need to worry about, Booth." Sully's eyes narrowed. "What's going on with you two?"

Booth gave him a warning look and Sully shrugged. "Okay, but you know, she's here to do a job, Seel. Keep you alive. It's probably smart to keep things professional."

"Sully—"

Sully nodded in understanding. "Too late, right?"

Booth didn't reply but the answer was undoubtedly an unqualified yes.


	18. Collision Course

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Merry Christmas! I'm a day late, but hope you will accept my delayed present anyway! Much thanks to _Dispatch_ for her always fabulous assist and a happy recovery to _Penandra_!

**Collision Course**

* * *

She eyed the tie that hung loosely around his neck almost longingly. Every morning, it was the same. He'd walk around perfectly dressed, leaving his tie for last and Brennan was starting to wonder whether he did it on purpose.

"Yes."

Her eyes went wide. "_What?"_

"Brown sugar on my oatmeal, Bones," he said, pointing to the open container on the kitchen counter and reminding Brennan of her question. "No matter how many times you ask, the answer's always gonna be yes."

"Oh." She looked down as if spooning sugar was the key to saving the world. "Right."

Setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her, Booth raised a curious eyebrow. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." Brennan frowned as she slid his bowl of oatmeal across the counter. "You know, your obsession with brown sugar is quite unhealthy."

Booth knew she was deflecting, but he let her, figuring she was on edge about his first day of oral arguments. Despite the fact that they'd been over her security protocol a million times, he offered to do so once more.

She raised surprised eyes to his. "Didn't you tell me yesterday that you'd rather eat nails than go through it again?"

Booth sighed. He had indeed. "Yeah, but you seem kinda tense and I figured—"

Her back went stiff. "I'm perfectly fine."

Knowing when to back off, he shrugged and spooned his oatmeal. She didn't eat so much as play with her eggs and Booth frowned in the direction of her almost full plate. Despite her lectures on healthy eating, he'd learned that she was apt to skip the most important meal of the day.

They drove to the Supreme Court in near silence. Brennan attempted to relax—it was never a good idea to be tense on the job—but she was honest enough with herself to recognize that today she was uneasy. The public had a right to observe the oral arguments, which meant a stream of people walking into that courtroom. There were security measures in place, yes; both hers and the Court's, but she knew better than anybody that nothing was foolproof.

In his chambers, ten minutes before the start of oral arguments for the day, Brennan couldn't help pacing a little. But she stopped in her tracks when he slipped on his black robes.

Her stare didn't go unnoticed. "What?" Booth smoothed a self-conscious hand over his mouth. "Do I have food on my face or something?"

"N-no." Brennan blinked and tried to come out of her trance. "I just … I've never seen you wear that."

"Oh." In surprise, he looked down at himself. "Yeah, I guess this will be the first time I wear them on the Court." He'd been appointed months earlier, but the Court's official term began the first Monday in October. Today, once he sat in that bench, he would officially be a Supreme Court Justice. It seemed that with the way his life had turned upside down in the last few months, the sheer magnitude of that had escaped him.

Slightly dazed, Booth found himself leaning on the edge of his desk. "I've been working for this moment for over a decade," he said softly, almost to himself. "I should be nervous, right?"

"Why should you be?" she asked in blessed pragmatism. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't qualified to do this job."

Booth gave a soft chuckle, appreciating her rationality. "One of the cases we're hearing today is seeking to overturn an eighty-year old precedent. To do so would be to radically alter Fourth Amendment jurisprudence." He looked to the ceiling, reminded that some things were bigger than himself and his problems. "God, Brennan, I've read both sides' briefs over and over again and I'm still torn."

Helplessly, she walked forward until she was standing right in front of him. "All you can do is go with your brain and your gut, right?"

His startled gaze met hers. "Did you just say that?" He pretended to look around the room. "Who are you and what have you done with Temperance Brennan?"

He was trying to lighten the mood, but she raised a hand and curved her palm over his jaw. "I've always believed that the brain has all the answers, but I know you don't." Solemn blue eyes gazed into warm chocolate. "You were the one that told me we have more tools at our disposal than our brain."

"Is that you telling me that I should use my heart and my gut when I cast my vote?" he teased softly.

"Well, you should always use your brain too, of course," she replied very seriously. "I'm merely reminding you of all the tools at your disposal."

Booth nodded, vaguely realizing that his hands had settled at her waist. "Thanks."

There was a soft knock on his door that broke the sudden spell. The knock was a simple reminder that court would be in session in less than ten minutes. With regret, he dropped his hands and watched her take several steps backs.

"You know where you have to sit, right?"

Brennan nodded. Sitting in the courtroom was a strict, formal process, dictated by seniority and hierarchy. She was termed a special guest and was to be seated to the right of the Bench, behind a row of black chairs reserved for retired Justices and officers of the Court.

"Meet you back here for lunch?" he asked quietly.

With another nod and a small smile, she headed for the door.

**-x-**

At lunchtime, Brennan stormed into Booth's office.

"Calm down."

"She's here!"

"I know. Calm down," he repeated.

Not even the sight of him removing his robes could distract her. "She's still stalking you!"

"Oral arguments are open to the public," he reminder her in an attempt to keep her blood pressure down. "It's not a crime to come watch them."

"Do not play devil's lawyer, Booth," she seethed.

In spite of everything, he had to smile. "Devil's advocate, Brennan," he corrected. "And I'm not. Is it creepy as hell that she's here? Yes. I'm not going to lie, okay, it creeps me out, but I can't do anything about it—" Her lips parted and he said quickly, "And neither can you."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "How long are we supposed to let this continue?" she demanded. "Are we supposed to ignore it until she actually tries to hurt you? Is that when we can actually act?"

"I don't know," he sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. Technically, she's not breaking the law. She's not doing anything wrong. My hands are tied, Bones."

She saw his use of the nickname for what it was—an attempt to distract her. "Mine are not."

"Brennan …" he said warningly.

"What do you think will take for her to leave you alone?"

He honestly didn't know, but whatever she was thinking was bound to keep him up nights. "Whatever is going through that brilliant mind of yours … put a stop to it now."

"Why do you think I'm here, Booth?" she said calmly. "Why do you think Angela insisted I come?"

Booth wasn't sure where she was going with this, but he answered her anyway. "Because she trusts you. Because you are good at your job. Because she was worried and she needed to do something. I'm sure there are quite a number of reasons."

"Perhaps," she conceded coolly. "I'm sure all of those were contributing factors. But when Angela called me and asked me to keep you alive, the truth is that she knew just what I'm capable of. She didn't want just anyone to protect you, Booth. She wanted someone who wouldn't hesitate, not even for a second, to do whatever was necessary to keep you breathing."

"You can't kill this woman just because she might be a potential threat."

Everything about her was deadly when she replied, "No, Booth. _You_ can't." Her voice was practically toneless. "But eliminating potential threats is precisely what I'm trained to do."

He stared at her, nearly mesmerized by the terrifying finality in her tone. "Damn, you're scary."

Her cool façade cracked for just a moment. "I am," she said, turning her back on him and Booth realized she'd misinterpreted his words.

He felt compelled to set her straight, but knew just how revealing that would be. His internal struggle lasted only a few seconds before he was moving to stand behind her.

"Do not for a moment think I find you anything less than fucking amazing." She tensed but didn't move and though he was close enough to touch, Booth kept his hands to himself. "You're terrifying, yes, but only in the best, most incredibly electrifying way."

Brennan shifted, maybe to turn around, but he clasped his hands around her shoulders to keep her in place. There was no way he could have her facing him while he confessed and not crush her against him. "We can keep pretending, that's fine." His voice was low and nearly raspy at her back, making Brennan hold her breath. "But let's get one thing straight, whatever you've done, whatever you do, whatever the hell you'll do, doesn't matter to me. You're the only thing that matters and that's why I want you to stay away from Pam Nunan."

"You can't seriously be worried about me?" she asked, nearly dazed.

Booth's fingers tightened on her once before he released her and stepped back. "Stay away from her, Brennan." He'd read Dr. Sweets' profile too. And whatever obsession that woman had going wasn't just dangerous to him.

Staring straight ahead, Brennan simply said, "Only if she stays away from you."

**-x-**

But she didn't.

For two weeks, Pam Nunan attended oral arguments at the Supreme Court. There were always two lines. One for those that wanted to observe an entire argument, the other for those that wanted to observe a session only briefly. She was always standing in the former, every day of arguments, without fail.

Brennan had spoken to the police officer on duty and Pam always arrived bright and early, hours before the building even opened, to claim her spot in line. Always securing the closest row reserved for the public.

Sitting in her designated spot to the right of the Bench, Brennan watched her with a nearly unblinking gaze. The woman was remarkably ordinary, slightly overweight, with brown hair and dark eyes. Looking at her, it would be impossible to guess that she was delusional and obsessive. But the rapt attention in which she watched the proceedings, the slight smile that would always touch her lips whenever Booth asked a question, made a chill climb up Brennan's spine.

Brennan knew her constant presence at every oral argument had Booth on edge too. He pretended it didn't bother him, but she knew better. It didn't help that their inability to agree with how to deal with the situation had them at odds with each other as well. Everything in her chafed at the constant inaction.

At the close of the second week of arguments, the Justices met in a private conference, closed even to staff, to discuss the cases and to take a preliminary vote. It was a Friday and Brennan waited for Booth to finish his super secret conference. Every day, he seemed more exhausted and she knew that seeing that woman front and center at every damn oral argument was stressing him out. Brennan could kill her for that alone.

There would be no more arguments for a couple of weeks and Brennan had to admit she was looking forward to the break. She was looking forward to taking Booth home and not having to worry about Pam Nunan for two weeks.

Needing to get some air, she stepped outside the Supreme Court building. Something prickled at the back of her neck and she thought maybe Booth and his talk of gut and instincts was finally getting to her. Instinctively, her hand moved to the small of her back where Brennan liked to keep a weapon. But she was unarmed, her guns and knives in the car, because even Brennan wasn't allowed to bring weapons into the courtroom.

"Who are you?" Brennan whirled around and came face to face with Pam Nunan. She was weaponless but her body automatically assumed a fighting stance. The other woman took a step forward, peering at her with narrowed eyes. "I see you with him every day. You come together and you leave together. Who are you?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter who I am." Purposely, she took her own step forward. "What matters is what I'll do to you if you don't leave him alone." Brennan allowed every hint of menace she was feeling to fill her tone.

Pam's eyes blazed in outrage. "Do you think you can come between us?"

"Someone's trying to hurt him," Brennan said darkly, ignoring the question. "If it's you, I promise that you will regret it."

"I would never hurt him," she said in a watery tone that made Brennan grind her teeth. "I love him."

"You don't even know him."

Eyes that a second ago were nearly liquid went suddenly flinty. "How dare you? We love each other!"

Brennan's stomach turned at the crazed declaration. "You appear to be quite unbalanced. You should seek competent mental health treatment."

"You bitch," Pam spat, fury making twin red splotches bloom on her cheeks. "If you think you can keep him away from me, you don't know me." She turned around and threw one last hateful glance at Brennan over her shoulder. "A woman will do anything for love," she reminded her. "And Seeley is mine, don't you ever forget that."

**-x-**

Brennan sure as hell wasn't going to forget. She did nothing but think about it for the next six hours.

Her bedroom clock read nearly two in the morning when she dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a black pullover sweater. The timing of her excursion was not accidental. Booth would likely have a heart attack if he knew what she was planning.

After his conference ended, they'd had dinner at home followed by their customary Scrabble game. She didn't mention her impromptu meeting with Pam, but as if he could sense something was off, he went to bed later than usual. It didn't sit well with Brennan to leave him all alone in the middle of the night, but she knew his security system was state of the art and she was going to make sure everything was clear before leaving. Plus, she didn't plan to be gone long.

The fact that her intended destination was a mere fifteen minute cab ride away was unsettling. Too close. Too damn close to him for her peace of mind. She had the cab drop her off a block away and she walked the rest of the way. Brennan had memorized this address since the moment she read it in Agent Sullivan's file.

Getting inside was incredibly simple. But then again, she was just that good. In the living room, she turned her slim flashlight on and nearly gasped when the beam of light fell on the walls. There were pictures on nearly every available surface, all of them of Pam and Booth. A few of them Brennan recognized as photo-shopped from a press release announcing Booth's Supreme Court appointment.

_Oh, god, this woman is completely crazy. _

Silently, Brennan opened a few doors until finding the right one. She was careful to keep the beam away from the bed. All over the bedroom, evidence of this woman's obsession assaulted her, making her nearly nauseous. The top of a dresser was covered in tiny little gavels, very similar to the one she knew Booth always carried with him. The sight felt like a violation somehow.

With utter calm, she turned off the flashlight and waited a few minutes to let her eyes become accustomed to the darkness. It wasn't terribly dark anyway, as a sliver of moonlight filtered through the pale pink blinds on the window.

With sure hands, Brennan pulled out her knife and walked to the bed. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Pam's parting words today had been a not so veiled threat. But she was about to find out that Temperance Brennan did not intimidate.

With barely a sound, she threw back the girly coverlet over Pam's body. The sleeping woman stirred and before her eyes had even opened, there was a knife to Pam's throat and a steely hand covering her mouth.

"Give me one good reason," Brennan said, whisper soft. The eyes that looked up at her were suddenly aware and terrified, but she felt no pity. "Now, listen to me very carefully because I dislike repeating myself."

**-x-**

Brennan had been gone less than an hour, but she did a quick check of the grounds on her return to make sure everything was secured. Satisfied with her inspection, she slipped quietly inside the house. It only took her two steps into the living room to realize he was waiting for her.

It surprised her and yet somehow, she should have known. _Damn it. _

Instinctively, she went on the defensive. "Why are you up?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Brennan." He rose from the chair in a graceful, dangerous movement. "The person sneaking home in the middle of the night is the one that should be answering the questions here."

Her back went ramrod straight. "I don't answer to you, Booth."

He didn't dignify that with a response. "Where were you?"

Brennan's lips tightened in a mulish line. "Go back to bed."

Seeking to end the confrontation, she moved to walk past him. His hand reached out, long fingers closing gently but firmly over her arm. "Don't make me ask again." While he waited, Booth had turned only one soft lamp on, but even in the dim light, he could see the speculation in her gaze. That brilliant brain was whirling, trying to figure out a way out of this. His fingers tensed in warning. "And don't you dare lie to me."

He saw her chin tilt up defiantly. "You damn well know where I was."

Booth was afraid she was right. "I'm hoping to hell I'm wrong."

"You're not," she spat angrily. "I'm doing my job, Booth."

"What did you do?"

"Don't ask questions you won't like the answers to," she said icily.

_Oh, shit._ "Please tell me you didn't kill her." His own mind whirled, automatically thinking of every defense attorney he knew.

"I didn't."

He exhaled in relief. "If something happens to that woman, all it'll take will be for the cops to do a little digging and your name will be at the top of the suspect list."

Brennan raised a haughty eyebrow. When she killed people, she didn't leave any evidence behind. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him of that, but instead she said blandly, "I already said she was alive."

"And unharmed?" he clarified. Despite the question, his eyes raked over her, assessing that _she _was not injured. The knot in his stomach eased at finding not a hair out of place.

Another disdainful sniff. "Yes."

"Why today?" he asked abruptly. Her gaze was puzzled and he clarified, "What happened today that made you decide to do this?" He damn well knew something had been off with her all night.

Briefly, she toyed with lying. But it really wasn't one of her skills and it seemed that when it came to him, she was even more abysmal than usual. "We had a conversation outside the Supreme Court last night."

"What?"

"Can you release me now?" She gave the hand still holding her arm a pointed glance.

He released his hold, but didn't step back. "She approached you?" It made him queasy just thinking about it.

"She made a few demands and veiled threats," Brennan explained, refusing to go into any detail. "I simply went to her house and made some threats of my own. Only mine were fairly overt." And much more deadly.

Booth scrubbed a hand over his face. "You can't just disappear in the middle of the night. I've been worried sick, Brennan."

"You were asleep when I left," she defended, even though his worry made her feel a little guilty. "You weren't supposed to wake up and find out I was gone. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you got caught."

"Well, yes," she admitted. "But I'm also sorry you were worried. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"I knew you were up to something tonight." The accusation was mild but there in his soft tone. "Even though you promised you would stay away from her."

"I never promised."

"Then promise now."

"Absolutely not!" Her voice was adamant. "She's dangerous, Booth!" The woman's house alone made her skin crawl. Brennan sincerely hoped Pam had taken their little chat seriously, because otherwise, she'd be forced to take more drastic action.

"If that's true, then I damn well don't want her anywhere near you," he hissed.

"It's not me she's obsessed with," Brennan hissed back with an angry poke to his chest. "You should be worrying about yourself."

"But now you're on her radar. What are the odds that she sees you as a threat to her delusions?" he growled, trapping her poking finger. "I read Sweets' profile too, you know. I want you to let Sully handle her."

"That's ridiculous," Brennan scoffed. "Agent Sullivan can't even detain her. Hasn't broken any laws, remember?" she quoted Sully bitterly.

"Goddamn it," he cursed, frustration making his eyes darken. "Don't be stubborn."

Her tilted chin told him that was exactly what she was gonna be. Automatically, he tugged on her captured finger, just enough to get her attention. Her free hand went to his chest, fisting the soft material of his t-shirt.

There was no winning this argument, for either one of them. "If she so much as touches you, I'll be pissed," he warned in a low voice before wrapping a hand around her nape and slanting his mouth on hers.

Brennan tugged the finger he had in his grasp free and wound her arms around his neck. His groan of pleasure vibrated her body. Booth's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tighter and she knew it was surely madness to let herself go like this after so many weeks of self-control. But he was making it so damn difficult, with his soft, raspy confessions and unadulterated concern and brain-melting kisses.

The words he'd spoken so surely in his chambers weeks ago seemed branded on her skin still. It was going to be impossible to forget them. The way he seemed hell-bent on protecting her, bewildered and softened her at the same time, because the truth was that she was usually the one others needed protection from. And then there was the way he kissed her, as if everything he could ever need was to be found between her lips. God, she couldn't get enough.

When the need for air had Brennan pulling her head back, he buried his face against her throat, breathing hard. She stroked his hair, catching her own breath. "I promise you, I'm not the one you need to be worried about," Brennan said softly, trying to soothe some of his anxiety.

Wordlessly, Booth nodded and released her. He took one step back and then another and with one last blazing look in her direction, went back to his room. Helplessly, she swayed and raised a hand to her burning lips.

Just how much she wanted him didn't bear thinking about. That whatever he was making her feel, she had never felt before was undeniable. Her ordered, logical brain was sending her warning signals, but everything else, everything she had always dismissed—heart, gut, instinct—seemed to have her on a collision course leading straight to him.


	19. Accord and Satisfaction

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: We're smack dab in the middle of another hiatus, so hopefully, this helps! As is the case most of the time with this fic, you would not be getting this chapter without the assistance of the lovely **_Dispatch_**. Enjoy!

**Accord and Satisfaction **

* * *

His eyes were going nearly crossed-eyed looking at the information on the screen. With a sigh, Sully rubbed gritty eyes and leaned his head back against his chair for a momentary respite.

"How did I know you'd be here?"

At her voice, eyes popped open, head snapped up. His heartbeat picked up speed as he pushed away from his desk and stood up.

"Hey." He raked his gaze over her, surprised and elated at the same time. "Wh—what are you doing here?" The question came out automatically and Sully almost kicked himself because he didn't care why she was there, only that she was.

Cam shrugged, unable to really answer. The truth was that she had no particular reason to come to his office other than wanting to see him. But she was nothing if not quick on her feet. "How's the investigation going?" she deflected easily. "I'm guessing that's why you're here so late."

"Yeah." He flashed a smile, just a quick one to let her know he was going to let it go, but he'd noticed the deflection. "Trying to get a lead on something, anything before next month. Booth has some competition thing he's refusing to cancel and Brennan is none too pleased. Gotta say, I can't blame her."

"The moot court competition," Cam acknowledged with a worried frown. "He probably shouldn't go, right?"

"Probably not, but we both know he's not going to cancel," Sully sighed and gave Cam a considering look. "Tell me something, is there any chance this could be related to any of the upcoming cases on the Court's docket?"

Cam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?"

"None of the threats have checked out, nothing has even raised a red flag. So I'm wondering if maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way." Sully gestured to his desk, covered in papers. "What if this is about a case? I've been thinking this might be a personal attack, but maybe it's not. Or at least, not completely." His mind whirled as he thought out loud. "I've been reading up on the cases the Supreme Court is hearing this session. Nothing has jumped out at me yet, but I'm not a lawyer, I don't even know what I'm looking for. Maybe a more legal mind than mine can help."

"Oh, that's not even subtle."

He gave a shameless grin. "There's a brilliant legal mind in my office right now. Where else am I gonna find one?"

Cam kept her lips firmly compressed to keep a smile from eking out. "Oh, I don't know, your victim is a pretty brilliant legal mind," she said drolly. "How about getting his help?"

Sully chuckled warmly and reached for her hand. He brought her close, sighing internally when she didn't resist. "Booth is too busy trying to make Brennan fall in love with him to be of any help right now."

Unable to help herself, Cam let out a very loud laugh. "You did not just say that," she managed amidst her laughter.

"You think I'm kidding, but you know what they're doing tonight?" His eyes sparkled at her amusement. "Having a date night."

"You serious?" Her eyes went wide. "No, they are not."

"Okay, they're going to dinner at some other justice's house, but c'mon," he grinned suggestively, "tell me that's not the closest thing to a date Booth has had this year."

Cam thought about it and nodded. It was true, and the year was almost ending. "I'm gonna have to kick her ass if she breaks his heart, Sully."

"What if he breaks hers?" Sully wondered. "Do you think there's anyone who has her back?" His interactions with Temperance Brennan had been surface, at best, but there was something about her that seemed extremely lonely and vulnerable.

"You've got quite the soft spot, don't you, Agent Sullivan?" she said softly, falling a little more in love with him because of it. "But have you seen the way he looks at her?"

"Yep."

"If anyone's heart it's gonna break, it's gonna be his."

Sully wasn't so sure. He knew better than anyone how two people in love could break each other's heart without even meaning to. "C'mon, help me figure out what will it mean for the outcome of any of these cases if Booth is out of the picture."

Cam stepped away from him and pulled up a chair next to his desk. "Well, I can tell you that a lot of the cases this session are controversial and many of them will be close. Booth will likely cast the swing vote on a number of them. But killing him would make no sense."

"Why not?"

"Because, even if you eliminate him, at best you'd create a 4-4 deadlock."

"And if there's a deadlock?"

"Well, then the lower court's opinion is affirmed without the Supreme Court issuing a decision." Cam frowned. "But if that was the goal, why Booth? Eliminating any number of other justices could potentially create a deadlock, as well."

"Maybe a deadlock is not the goal?" Sully mused out loud. He mulled the information and rounded his desk to search through his notes. "Okay, well, this case is being heard in December and two justices are recusing themselves. How will that affect things?"

"That's interesting." Cam's eyes glittered as she looked at his notes. "Which ones?"

**-x- **

At the driveway to Justice Haddoes' house, Booth turned to Brennan before getting out of the car. "Remember not to attack Marcus if he tries to give me a gift." His teasing grin was huge and too appealing for his own good. "Deal?"

"Oh, you think you're so funny." Brennan gave a little mock laugh before adding a muttered, "Deal."

An hour later, watching Brennan laugh at another one of Haddoes' outrageous stories, Booth was thinking that every argument they'd had about this night had been completely worth it. Despite her agreement to the evening weeks before, the closer they got to it, the more demands she began to make. At one point, she'd even suggested doing a sweep of the Chief Justice's house before allowing Booth inside. Some of her terms were more outrageous than others and they had bickered over each one.

Finally, they had come to an acceptable agreement and though Booth felt he'd compromised way too much, looking at her now, there was no question he'd do it all over again.

"He'd been assigned to my courtroom for months," Haddoes relayed to Brennan. "And he was the most proper prosecutor you could imagine."

Booth raised his beer with a smile. "If there's one thing we're taught in law school is to respect the judge."

"So imagine my surprise when I made what he thought was a wrong call at the prosecutor's versus public defender's annual softball game and he lost his mind."

Brennan turned to Booth with sparkling eyes. "Did you really?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "That's not how I remember it."

"He was livid," Haddoes informed Brennan gleefully. "Called me blind as a bat, as well as a few more colorful things I gracefully chose to forget before showing up to court the next Monday."

"Forget?" Booth nearly choked on his drink. "You sustained every damn objection defense counsel made at trial that week," he remembered.

"Not because of the game," Haddoes said with dignity. "They were good objections."

Booth laughed out loud at that. "Oh, please."

"I never played favorites in my courtroom."

"That's true enough," Booth conceded, leaning back comfortably, smile still toying about his lips. "When I took the bench, I did my best to run my courtroom the same way you did."

The simple words were the most sincere compliment and made the older man smile affectionately. "You have no idea how glad I am that you beat Hasty for the nomination. I shudder to think of sharing the Bench with him."

Booth made a noncommittal sound. His personal interactions with Hasty were few and far between, but the few times they'd crossed path he'd gotten a distinctly slimy vibe.

"Who's that?" Brennan wanted to know.

"He's a federal judge," Booth explained. "When Justice Kemper's retirement opened up a spot on the Supreme Court, he was also in the running for the nomination."

"He would have been nothing but Bethlehem's puppet," Haddoes muttered in disgust.

"You don't know that, Marcus," Booth said gently to his former mentor.

"Oh please, Seeley, I've been around a long time. Believe me, Hasty on the Court would have been an unmitigated disaster." Booth couldn't disagree with that, but it felt unsporting to say it since the coveted Supreme Court nomination had gone to him.

Aware that Marcus was already regaling Brennan with another sordid story of his days as a prosecutor, Booth focused on the conversation.

"Marcus, maybe we should leave a little mystery," he suggested.

Brennan shushed him. "No, I want to hear the story."

A wide smile dissected the face that usually looked so stern and forbidding when in the courtroom. "The lady wants to hear the story, Seeley."

**-x-**

Booth handed Brennan the car keys and said, "Maybe I shouldn't have had that last beer."

She was more than pleased to drive them home and smiled at the way he got out of the car very carefully.

"Did you have a good time?" Brennan inquired, watching as he opened the door and set the alarm with a rather intense focus.

"Of course I did." He turned to her with a smile that made her stomach practically hurt. "Even though I was slandered greatly."

"Slandered?" She rolled her eyes and walked next to him. "I'm already very aware that you are quite competitive."

"Well, I was right," Booth insisted not for the first time that night. "That was ball four."

Her lips twitched. "I believe you, Booth."

"You sure? 'Cause at dinner it didn't sound like you believed me."

He gave her a wide, incredibly adorable smile which suggested to Brennan that perhaps he was more inebriated than she'd imagined. When he opened his bedroom door, she followed him in. "Do you need my assistance?"

Booth tilted his head curiously. "What?"

She swallowed. "I'm unsure as to your current sobriety level and was wondering whether you, um … needed help." Without permission, her voice turned nervous as she gestured vaguely in his direction.

It took Booth a moment to get her implication and then he nearly burst out laughing.

_How drunk does she think I am?_

Obviously enough that she thought he might need help getting his clothes off. Only thing was, she couldn't be more wrong. He wasn't drunk, he'd just drank enough to lower whatever inhibitions he had in regards to her. Which was probably why he found himself advancing on her until she had to take a few steps back. When she hit his door there was no more retreat and when he looked at her, Booth didn't even try to pretend he wasn't thinking of everything that happened the last time she'd been in his bedroom.

"If I say yes," he replied to her question, looking at her from under half-lidded eyes, "are you gonna undress me, Bones?"

She blinked. He was suddenly so close and looking into his eyes, Brennan realized her mistake. He looked way too alert to be intoxicated to any significant degree. Her throat felt dry and giving in to the impulse to inhale was a mistake too because he smelled so incredibly good. It was unfair, he didn't even wear cologne.

He seemed to be radiating enough heat to burn her. The thought was fanciful, but nonetheless accurate. Her fingers practically itched to yank open his shirt and palm his bare skin. "We shouldn't do this," she said it out loud, more for her sake than his.

His shrug was deceptively casual. "You're the one still here."

That was indisputably true and prompted her to confess, "I can't seem to move."

"And I don't want you to move," he breathed, his mouth so close to hers it felt like he was speaking against her lips. "But you should know that if you stay, I'm gonna take you right here."

Her entire body seemed to react to his words. A lusciously husky sound escaped her lips and her pupils were so dilated, it was like she was high on something. Booth was sure his eyes must look the exact same way because he felt high on her.

When her fingers curled in his shirt, they both knew she wasn't going anywhere. Brennan met his gaze and whispered, "Is that a deal?"

The small tease was so unexpected and even more exciting because of it. "Deal," he murmured before crushing her mouth.

Something ripped and when her nails raked over his stomach, Booth realized it had been his shirt. Somehow, he kissed her harder, shamelessly encouraging the way she was marking his body. His chest was burning but he couldn't quite stop kissing her. Lately, it seemed like every day was nothing but a countdown to tasting her on his lips again.

His hands roamed over her curves, petting and molding and driving himself wild with the feel of her. Under the skirt of her dress, he touched satiny skin and then hit the knife strapped to her thigh. The number of weapons she'd take to dinner had been one of their many compromises for the night.

"Bren," he gasped, hands frozen beneath her dress. "Please take this off."

Her hands were too busy unsnapping his pants. "Do it."

"I don't want to cut you."

"You won't."

He knew her knives were razor sharp and he traced the strap around her thigh, careful not to move the blade pressed so close to her skin. Booth was sure he held his breath until he unsnapped the band. It fell to the floor with a thud and he ran his fingers over the soft skin of her inner thighs.

"Touch me," she breathed huskily against his throat and pressed deep kisses all over his skin. "Touch me more."

Groaning, he touched her through panties that felt so flimsy, there was no question they wouldn't survive his fingers. They tore like gossamer and he palmed her flesh, crazy soft and dripping wet. She moaned—a sound he remembered with crystal clear quality—and shoved her hands down his boxers.

In a daze of frantic kisses and panting breaths, he cupped her bottom and had her wrapped around him. Hard as steel, he thrust into her and shuddered in bliss. 'Cause there was nothing more fantastic than the way she felt, all slick, hot welcome.

Brennan's head thudded back against the door, his mouth assaulted her throat. He sucked hard enough to leave a mark and she couldn't even care because she'd let him do anything he wanted as long as he kept moving into her in that perfect rhythm. Smooth and even but exquisitely hard and delicious.

"Oh, God!" Her nails dug into his shoulders, hard enough to leave some marks of her own. "Yes!"

Uncontrolled, he surged inside her, moaning heavily when all of her clenched around his throbbing cock. "_Jesus_," he gasped roughly, vision nearly blurry. "Gonna lose my fuckin' mind." And when she came around him, he simply did. Parted lips, flushed cheeks and brilliant blue eyes, the most ridiculously erotic picture Booth could ever recall.

Once he could move again, he released her carefully, taking a few steps back to give her space. She looked nearly as dazed as he felt. Booth was unsure of what to do because picking her up and sweeping her into his bed was about the only thing going through his mind at the moment. But going by her shell-shocked look, he knew that wasn't really an option.

"Booth …" Her voice was soft and her eyes wide and she looked nearly lost. Control was important to her, he knew and they had just lost all of it against his door.

"We slipped," he said it as casually as possible, hoping to soothe whatever anxiety she was experiencing. His voice sounded impossibly hoarse and he cleared his throat to add, "Could happen to anyone."

"We slipped." She nodded a bit stiffly, but then gave him a small smile. "Okay. Good night."

After she was gone, he could only stand there, unsure of what to do or feel. For a moment, Booth wondered if he'd hallucinated the entire night, but she left behind her knife and ruined panties as proof that it had been completely real.

In her room, Brennan sat on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to sort out her own feelings. She was satisfied and frustrated at the same time. With a groan, she flopped back on the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. Her body felt soft and languid, but there was a restlessness inside her that had her yearning to go back to his room and climb into bed next to him. Curl herself against him and fall asleep. The urge made her frown. Desiring his gorgeous body was one thing, needing _him_ was altogether different and infinitely more terrifying.

On her nightstand, her cell phone beeped and she popped up on the bed. Brennan read his text with an unconscious smile.

_Breakfast tmw?_

Unable to do anything else, she texted him back.

_Deal._


	20. Pieces of You

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: A very, very delayed bday present to pal Dispatch, who at this point deserves collaborative credit on this. Seriously, this chapter made possible by a ton of Gatorade and Dispatch!

**Pieces of You**

* * *

Parker Booth passed her the popcorn and Brennan was almost shocked at the ease of the gesture. There had been no discussion of whether or not she'd spend the evening with Booth and his son. Or whether she'd join in their after dinner game of Clue. It was all so normal and domestic and completely alien to her, yet incredibly fascinating.

Blinking quickly, she realized Parker was staring at her strangely, and Brennan realized it was her turn to make a move on the game. Her face flushed a bit, and she concentrated on the board, but not before catching Booth's gaze on hers. He was looking at her with the same sort of fascination she was feeling, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Immediately after her turn, Parker announced, "It was Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the rope." His hand shot out to check the little yellow envelope and confirm his conclusion. "Yes!" With a satisfied smile he showed the cards to Booth and Brennan. "I win."

"Not again," Booth mock groaned.

"You're very good at this game," Brennan noted, a curious line between her brows. "Do you have a special strategy?" Booth and Parker chuckled, thinking she was being humorous, and Brennan tilted her head because she was perfectly serious.

"Okay, bud, help Bones pick up the game and take it back to your room." Booth ruffled his son's hair affectionately and stood up. "I got kitchen duty."

"Why does he call you that?" A curious inquiry.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Because he's pathologically incapable of listening to me."

"Patho-what?" Parker made a funny face, making Booth laugh.

"Don't let her fool you, Park," he chuckled. "She likes it."

Brennan stuck out her tongue at Booth, delighted when Parker giggled at the silly gesture.

"Hey, I saw that." Booth picked up plates from the table, took them to the kitchen. He loaded up the dishwasher and watched Brennan and Parker pick up the game across the counter dividing the kitchen and dining room.

When Parker rushed to his room to put the game away, Booth glanced at the clock and gave a dejected sigh. Brennan walked over, carrying her half-empty water glass and caught the look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Rebecca will be picking him up soon."

Automatically, she raised a hand to touch him. "I'm sorry, Booth."

He shook his head. "I'm not used to this," he said a little hoarsely. Parker lived half the year with him and half with Rebecca, with alternating holidays, but they had decided that it would be safer for him to stay with his mother while this mess with Booth was going on. "I'm supposed to be dropping him off at school and taking him to ballgames."

"You will," she breathed fiercely. "I promise you." Wordlessly, he turned into her and she hugged him. Booth just breathed her in for a moment before releasing her.

By the time his son emerged from his room, Booth had a cheerful smile on his face once again. That smile faltered when Parker said, "Dad, can't I stay with you today?"

"Parker …"

"I'm supposed to be staying with you anyway," he grumbled in characteristic little boy logic.

"Buddy, your mom and I talked to you about this," Booth began, but Parker's mouth tightened in a rebellious line.

"No, you didn't," he said. "You just told me I'd be staying with Mom longer." Stubborn eyes looked up at him. "I know someone's trying to hurt you."

Booth's eyes widened in distress. "_Parker—_"

"I'm not a baby, Dad," he said mutinously. "I knew something was wrong the moment Mom told me we were staying in Florida for the summer."

Booth sighed. There wasn't much he could say to that. It was an anomaly. "Parker …" he repeated softly.

A stubborn chin lifted. "I know someone's trying to kill you," Parker informed, a tiny quiver to his voice.

Booth was horrified. "_What_?"

"I googled your name 'cause you guys wouldn't tell me anything," he said defiantly. "It was the first hit."

Brennan was impressed. "Very resourceful."

Booth knelt beside his son and hugged him. "I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine, I promise."

"How do you know?"

"Because I won't let anything happen to him," Brennan said, voice firm and serious.

"Really?" Eyes that looked so much like Booth's studied her, innocent and nearly unblinking. "You'll keep him safe?"

"Yes."

One single word, but so much conviction that Parker had no choice but to believe her.

**-x-**

"Oh, everything is absolutely in place. We completely understand the concerns and let me assure you that Justice Booth will be safe and sound next week. We at Georgetown Law pride ourselves on …"

The annoying voice grated on and Brennan tried to tune it out. After barely an hour, she had decided that there wasn't anyone more annoying that one Daisy Wick. The perky, preppy Ms. Wick who, despite having met Brennan multiple times already, continued to introduced herself as the Moot Court coordinator for the regional competition that would be taking place at Georgetown Law's Hart Auditorium over the course of two days.

Brennan had stopped listening to Daisy half an hour ago. Now, she just wandered the auditorium, looking for weak points and assessing security. "Are there cameras here?"

The abrupt question interrupted Daisy's diatribe. "Um…what?"

"Cameras, Ms. Wick?" Brennan said, taking a deep breath to temper her annoyance. "Are… there …cameras here?" she enunciated precisely.

"Well, the competition will be recorded, if that's what you mean."

"No," Brennan said through gritted teeth. "I mean, are there security cameras in this building?"

"Oh." Daisy blinked owlishly and then reluctantly admitted. "No, not that I know of."

"Can anyone get in?"

"Students and staff, yes." She bit her bottom lip anxiously. "Visitors need to get a day pass."

"Which I'm sure anyone can get," Brennan muttered in disgust.

"Dr. Brennan, I assure you," Daisy said hastily, "security will be of the upmost priority next week."

"I want those seats empty the day Booth is scheduled to be here."

Daisy followed Brennan's pointing finger to the upper row of seats. "All of them?"

"Yes," she replied curtly. "On both sides."

"B-but, that's nearly a hundred seats," Daisy stammered, horrified.

Brennan didn't bother to reply. She turned away from Daisy to walk the aisles. There were no windows in the auditorium, which was a small mercy. But the row of seats on the upper level with a clear view of the stage below gave her a headache. The security holes really were laughable and Brennan wanted little else but to demand that Booth cancel this damn thing.

It was no surprise that she returned home that day in a foul mood.

Booth took one look at her and muted the game. "Hey, Bones."

The stormy look she aimed his way had him turning off the TV and carefully rising from the couch. Booth watched her yank off her coat and throw it over the back of a chair in an uncharacteristic bit of messiness.

He followed her to the kitchen; brows shooting up when she yanked open the fridge and pulled out a beer. Obviously she had just grabbed the first thing her fingers touched because it was one of his and she hated the taste. She rattled around for a bottle opener, popped the top and took a long swig.

Booth had to bite back a chuckle when she made a face and looked at the bottle in irritation. "C'mon," he said, taking her hand.

Brennan set down the beer and let herself be pulled away. "Where are we going?"

"To let off some steam."

Although not completely clear on the phrase, her heart kicked. _Was he really …?_ Her brows furrowed as he led her to the gym. Her disappointment was really disproportional to the situation.

Booth rolled out the mat they used for sparring and Brennan gave it a dubious look. "I'm not wearing the proper attire for engaging in physical activity." She indicated her pants and scoop neck shirt.

He stepped out of his shoes, gave her a little smile. "It's just a little hand to hand, Bones." In a quick move, Booth stripped his t-shirt one handed and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You can pretend I'm Daisy," he said teasingly, well aware of how much the moot court coordinator irritated her.

Brennan scoffed, but she took off her shoes and circled him slowly. She was fairly certain her fingertips were practically tingling with the urge to touch his bare chest. "I want you to make it clear to her that the upper deck of that auditorium needs to be off-limits to the public."

"I shouldn't let you meet with Daisy anymore," Booth mused, effortlessly deflecting her half-hearted punch. "It always makes you cranky."

"Booth …"

"Relax, Bones," he said easily. "I'll talk to her. No people on the upper deck. I promise." He grabbed her fist, drawing her easily into him. "Now, forget about Daisy and play with me," he said almost against her mouth before releasing her again.

Brennan's lips quirked almost involuntarily, but she still muttered, "She's incredibly irritating."

"She's young and eager." He grunted slightly when Brennan threw a more solid punch.

"Really young," she agreed in a dissatisfied tone.

Booth recognized that tone, she always used it when talking about a certain FBI profiler. "Hey, maybe we should introduce her to Dr. Sweets," he joked.

Now she laughed out loud, letting his smile and his teasing drain away her stress. "God, no!"

**-x-**

Outside it was almost eerily quiet, but even if there had been a hellacious storm, Booth would have jolted awake at the sound of her scream. As his mind processed the facts, another one rent through the air, and he was out of his room and to her door within the span of three heartbeats. If he'd been more awake, he might have remembered the last time and the locked door between him and her nightmare. This time, the doorknob turned easily in his hand.

She looked tiny on the bed, sheets twisted and tangled about her legs. In an instant, he was beside her, flipping on the lamp by the nightstand. "Brennan."

She whimpered, he could see the tear tracks on her face. "Bren, wake up." A small, choked out sound escaped her and Booth climbed on the bed. "C'mon, baby." He grabbed her shoulders, shook gently. "_Bren_."

With a cry, her eyes popped open. Brennan gasped in air as if she couldn't draw breath. "It's okay," he soothed, smoothing her hair back. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she whispered back, but he could see the way she swallowed heavily, her voice the weakest he'd ever heard it.

"C'mere," he said gently, but he didn't move forward, letting her make the choice.

Brennan met his gaze, her eyes deep set in her strained face and then she was in his arms. Her light cotton nightgown brushed gently against his bare chest and he hugged her close. With a deep sigh, she buried her face against his neck, inhaling deeply.

"I'm sorry I woke you again," she mumbled against his skin.

His arms tightened around her and he dropped a kiss atop her head. "Bren," he exhaled in gentle chastisement.

"I know," she smiled softly, not fighting the truth between them. Brennan swallowed, and raised her head to look at him. "I'm not sorry you're here."

Their eyes met and held and Booth cupped her face between his palms, thumbs rubbing along her tear-stained cheeks. "I'd give anything to take your nightmares away."

Brennan blinked, knowing her gaze was giving entirely too much away, but he was there, with her and that made all the difference. Cool moonlight traced his muscles, but he was all warmth, encircling her with his arms and holding her close.

She settled her cheek against his chest as he stretched out on the bed with her securely against him. Brennan closed her eyes and breathed him in, he smelled clean and safe in a way that made her whisper, "I'm always buried alive."

Booth's entire body went tense at the hushed confession. "You don't have to—"

"I'm highly claustrophobic," she went on quietly. "Ever since I was a small child. It's one weakness I've never been able to overcome. Even small, crowded rooms make my palms clammy."

Her entire life she had worked at hiding weakness and yet Brennan found herself sharing her biggest one with him. "It was my final assignment with the Agency," she murmured. "The goal was to infiltrate a …" Brennan hesitated momentarily, highly aware of the classified stamp attached to most of her former assignments. "A particular organization and eliminate its leader."

He felt her tension with every word and automatically rubbed a hand over her back, up and down. "I'm right here," Booth said softly.

"After months of undercover work, I was finally recruited." Her stomach churned, easily remembering the personal hell that had greeted her. "Every recruit is given a test, the head of the organization demanded it. That's when I found out why everyone called her the Gravedigger."

"Oh god," he murmured horrified, understanding immediately. "Oh, baby."

"I'd heard the rumors about the initiation and I chose to ignore them," she admitted with a sad, bitter smile. "I was foolish, thinking I could overcome my phobia." Her voice echoed with shame. "Instead, I broke inside that small, little box."

"No, you didn't," he said fiercely.

"I did." Her tone was harsh. "I lost my mind."

"Because you were fucking buried alive," he said hoarsely, stomach clenching as his arms tightened around her. "How long?"

"Five days."

Booth shuddered. "_Jesus_." He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead.

"It was supposed to be a week. There was enough air supply for seven days." Her eyes closed and only the scent of him reminded her that she wasn't back there, screaming herself hoarse. "But the Agency pulled me out. With a deep cover assignment, it's protocol to wear an embedded tracker. I'd been out of contact for nearly a month, so they sent an extraction team. They thought I was dead, but they dug me out."

"You're alive," he said it like a prayer.

"But I'm broken."

"No." He buried a hand in her hair, tilted her head to meet his gaze. "No fucking way."

"I've spent four years trying to forget that hole," she confessed hoarsely. "But every time I wake up screaming, I know I've failed."

"You haven't failed," he assured her, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. The warmth of her skin contrasted against the sweat cooling against her nape. Every fiber of his being yearned to lean in and kiss her but he couldn't look away from her eyes. "Everybody's got demons. No shame in that."

He swallowed, so quickly coming to the realization that he couldn't and didn't want to imagine a life without her. And the thought that he could have lost her before he even met her had his heart beating wildly. "Damn it," he cursed softly and pulled her close, pressing his mouth against hers, harder than he'd intended. But she responded immediately, her fingers gripping his bare biceps as if his presence was keeping her grounded. He sure as hell knew that hers had kept him sane over the last three months and that being with her was more right than anything. A flood of emotion gripped his chest, and he pulled back, smiling crookedly at the way her eyes fluttered open, wide and blue with desire.

She cupped his cheek with a soft hand. "Are you taking care of me?" Brennan asked with a small, rueful smile. He was claiming pieces of her seemingly every day and she seemed powerless to stop him.

"Someone has to," he teased gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're a menace."

Brennan snorted, placing her hand against his chest, fingers splayed on warm, bare skin. "I disagree."

"Of course you do," Booth murmured, as they both relaxed against the pillows, his arms firmly around her. "Go to sleep," he urged softly, pulling the sheets over them both and reaching across her to flick the light off. "I got you."

She didn't argue, instead she settled comfortably and murmured a sleepy, "Am not a menace" that just barely reached his ears.

He didn't drift off until he felt her relax fully and heard the even breaths that indicated she'd finally let sleep claim her. "It's okay," Booth whispered, lips brushing tenderly over the top of her head. "You're my menace."


	21. Let Your Walls Come Down

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I lost a bet to pal _**Dispatch**_ a long time ago and payment was long overdue! :)

**Let Your Walls Come Down**

* * *

He could see her stress mounting with every day. His own frustration bubbled just under the surface, contained but scalding hot.

It didn't help matters any that Brennan had retreated one small but discernable step since the morning she woke up wrapped up in his arms. It was nothing overt, but he could sense it in the way she was oh so careful when she touched him, the studious way she avoided meeting his gaze every night when they were alone in his library playing Scrabble.

He let her get away with it because as much as it drove him crazy, Booth could see her struggle too. It was in the way her hands lingered just a second longer over him when they sparred. In the heat of her gaze, blue eyes going dark with something between desire and yearning in that one second before she composed herself.

Nearly every day he battled the urge to cut through the little pretense they had going and just tell her. How he wanted her all the time, how he couldn't imagine not having her in his life. Reassure her that her vulnerabilities were safe with him. Confess that just looking at her made him yearn too.

But he didn't because something told him that rushing this woman would never end well. So he waited, never imagining that losing his cool would be so completely out of his control.

**-x-**

She believed in what she could taste, touch, see, and hear. But walking into that auditorium it was impossible to shake the feeling that this wouldn't end well.

Brennan stood backstage, taut as a wire. The shining overhead lights made it practically impossible to see into the crowd and she was counting down the minutes until this goddamn pretend oral argument wound down. She drowned out the talking law students and scanned the packed auditorium again and again.

On stage, Daisy took the microphone after the final argument and announced the winner. There was polite applause and all four panel members—Booth and three federal judges whose names Brennan couldn't remember—moved to the center of the stage to congratulate the winning school.

Brennan watched every robe-clad judge shake hands with the two young women who eliminated the rest of the competition. _Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up_, she chanted silently, willing herself not to rush forward and rush Booth off the stage. A movement on the upper level caught her attention.

Her body tensed. The upper level was supposed to be empty. She took a step forward, coming out of the backstage shadows and raising a hand to shield her gaze against the bright auditorium lights. There was definitely someone up there. Her heart beat erratically. "Agent Sullivan," she said tightly into the small in-line microphone of her earpiece. "Are any of your agents on the upper level?"

Sully had gotten permission to sprinkle a few agents in the crowd during the competition. His answer came back two heartbeats later. "No."

"Booth!"

She was running, heart pounding. Her body slammed into him and the unmistakable sound of a fired shot had screams erupting in the packed auditorium.

**-x-**

She still had a key and she didn't hesitate to use it.

"Sully!"

He looked rumpled and strained and uninjured. Cam launched herself at him. "You're fine," she said in gut-clenching relief. "Oh god, you're fine."

His arms closed around her. "Yeah," he whispered, meeting her lips in a soothing kiss.

"I didn't … I heard on the news there had been—" Cam swallowed, pressed her forehead to his shoulder. "They said someone was injured. W-was it Booth?"

"Brennan."

"Oh no," Cam said softly. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah," Sully sighed, soothed himself by stroking a hand down her back. "Bullet just grazed her. She got patched up on scene."

"God, Sully." Her distressed gaze met his. "What a nightmare."

"I know." He picked her up and walked with her to the couch, settling her on his lap. "Bastard was out of there in the blink of an eye, but CSU is going over the scene with a fine tooth comb. If he left anything behind, we'll find it."

"That's twice," she shuddered. "What if next time—?"

"Shhh," he kissed the top of her head. "I'm gonna fucking make sure there's not a next time."

"If this bastard hurts either of you," she whispered against his neck, "I'm gonna kick his ass myself."

Sully smiled into her hair, cupping a hand over her nape. "I love you, Cam."

Her eyes closed, heartbeat jumping. "Sully…"

A heartfelt sigh escaped his lips as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "Look at me." He'd had a hellish day, he was exhausted, and he was home just to shower and change before heading back to work, but she was the one thing he would never consider giving up on. "I'm too tired to fight you today, but I love you and that's just not gonna change."

His voice was low and steady and it made her eyes practically tear up. "Oh, Sul."

She said his name in a tiny voice that hit him right in the gut. "Tell me you don't love me," he dared softly.

Lips pressed together before Cam replied, just as soft, "You know I can't."

Eyes firing up, he captured her mouth in a hard kiss. "Come home." It was demand and plea as he wound his hands into her hair and landed kiss after kiss on her lips. "Come home, baby. I miss you so damn much."

Just like that, her frighteningly weak self-control shattered. With a soft cry, she was twisting in his lap, yanking open his shirt, running feverish kisses over his face. His hands slid along her thighs, pushing up her skirt, fingers tangling in her underwear. He swallowed her moan, spilled a groan of his own into her mouth.

Sully flipped her under him and she tore at his pants, hands shoving down his boxers. He was hard in an instant, rasping out her name as she stroked him firmly. God, it had been too fucking long since he'd touched her.

There was a flurry of frantic touches and missed-you-so-hard kisses. Cam spread her legs as much as possible in the narrow confines of the couch and begged wordlessly with the sensual movements of her body under his. He slid a hand to cup her bottom and buried himself inside her in a single stroke.

"God, yes!" she gasped, shuddering in pleasure and relief.

His forehead pressed against hers. "I'm not letting you go again," he warned, lips brushing hers on the words. "You're staying." Teeth bit gently on her bottom lip. "Say it, Cam."

Her hips bucked under him, urging him to move. He didn't. "Sully," she panted.

"You're staying," he repeated implacably. "And you're marrying me."

Her eyes dilated wildly. "Are you crazy?"

He grinned down at her. "You make me crazy." A sweet kiss fell against her mouth. "But in this, I'm dead serious. I've got a ring that's been waiting for you for nearly six months."

"Six months?" The math made her head spin.

His grin disappeared, gaze turning solemn. "I got it the day before you left," he confirmed softly.

Her heart squeezed, remembering that night. Her tears, his pleas, walking out the door and frantically telling herself it was the best thing for both of them. Her arms went around him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Just say yes, Cam."

"This is blackmail," she groaned with a small bite to his shoulder.

"Just say yes," he repeatedly softly, an open-mouthed kiss to her throat and the barest roll of his hips. "You know you want to. You know I'll make you happy."

She did know; that had never been the issue. "But will I make you happy?"

"Every damn day." He had no doubt. She made him happy just by breathing. "I love you, baby."

"God, I love you too, Sully."

He smiled, nuzzled at her neck. "That's a yes, right?"

She laughed, almost six months' worth of tension and sadness unfurling into pure happiness. "Yes, you crazy man." Her legs tightened around him, arms winding around his neck. "Yes, yes, yes."

He captured her mouth and began to move in an easy rhythm that picked up speed and force with every soft moan out of her mouth. When she cried out, he groaned loudly, letting himself go as well.

Sweaty, panting, and still half-dressed, he held her in his arms and stroked her hair. Wet tears against his chest made him tense up. "Cam?" Sully shifted, trying to look at her face. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"We can't have children, Sully," she sniffled sadly against his chest. "It's so unfair."

"Oh, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and comforted her the way he hadn't been able to do months earlier. "I know it is. So damn unfair. But that doesn't mean we can't have a family of our own, if that's what you want."

"What do you want?"

"I want to wake up with you and make love to you and fight with you and let you drive me crazy for the rest of my life."

Cam let out a watery laugh and pinched his stomach. "Hey."

He gave a goofy smile and laced his fingers with hers. "I swear to god, Cam, that's what I've wanted since I saw you sitting in that restaurant." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "All I could think about was that I had been an absolute idiot fighting Booth for so long when he tried to set us up."

She giggled. "I just went so that he would stop bothering me about it." Her lips curved up in remembrance. "And I had my sister ready to call me with an emergency if things went south."

"She did call you!" Sully remembered in mock outrage.

"Yes." Cam nodded primly. "But lucky for you, I had no interest in being rescued anymore."

Sully chuckled softly. "Damn right."

**-x-**

While Cam and Sully smiled foolishly at each other, Booth and Brennan made their way back home, barely even sparing a glance in each other's direction.

Booth stormed into his house with barely controlled fury. Brennan followed him warily, well aware that her adamant refusal to go to a hospital pissed him off. But it would be absolutely worthless; she had a scratch, the bullet just barely grazing her forearm. Certainly, she'd had much more serious injuries in the past but informing Booth of that didn't seem the best idea.

He'd argued with her at the scene as the EMTs patched her up and when he realized her resistance was absolute he'd simply waited in stony silence while she'd spoken with the FBI. Then he'd driven them straight home without saying a word. Brennan had to admit the stormy silence had her on edge.

"Booth—"

"You're fired."

She didn't even blink. "You can't fire me."

"I just did."

She gave him a frosty look. "I don't work for you."

"You're not my personal security detail anymore, Brennan," he gritted out, the gut-wrenching panic in his stomach when he realized she'd been hit still very much present. "End of discussion."

"No," she denied, stubbornly. "Look, I'm sorry he was able to take a shot at you today, but I warned you about that damn competition didn't I?" She was angry herself just thinking about it. "And the fact of the matter is, that there's almost no one else that would have been able to react quicker than I did. You have every reason to be angry, but if you think someone else could have prevented—"

"Oh my god," he breathed in disbelief, finally realizing her thought process here. "You think this is because he took a shot at me!" The end of the sentence was practically roared and she blinked in surprise. "You're fucking unbelievable."

Furious and goddamn it, still feeling that residual shot of terror, Booth walked away from her. He stalked to the kitchen, thinking maybe a nice stiff drink would calm him down because at the moment he was losing every ounce of control.

"I'm confused," Brennan conceded, a little cautiously as she followed after him. He looked angrier than she'd ever seen him. "Do you not want to fire me because I failed to do my job?"

"Yeah," he seethed, refusing to enlighten her. Booth turned to face her, gaze shuttered, voice cold. "That's exactly the reason why."

"All right, you're obviously lying." He actually looked ready to strangle her, but she took a tentative step forward. "I am obviously missing something important here. Can you please just tell me so I don't have to guess."

"No, you know what, I don't think I will." Booth could hardly believe her obliviousness level and it angered him enough that he refused to play translator. She didn't realize the thought of anything happening to her was enough to make him homicidal. Which probably meant that he was playing alone on this particular chess board. Awesome. He was crazy about her and she was goddamn clueless. "Doesn't matter anyway. Your protection is no longer needed and—"

"I am not going to put your life in someone else's hands," she interrupted harshly, ramming an angry finger into his chest. "Whatever ridiculous reason you suddenly have for deciding you don't need my protection anymore, you can shove it. I am not going anywhere."

Any other time, he would have been amused by her words. He knew the term _shove it_ had not been in her lexicon until last week. But he was in no mood to be amused. In fact, he felt just about ready to come apart at the seams.

"My reason is not ridiculous," he hissed, automatically grabbing her wrist to stop her poking finger.

"Then tell me," she demanded, her voice suddenly desperate. "Please, just tell me what's going on. I'll fix it, I swear. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it."

"You can't." He laughed, but the sound was hollow. "You're the reason."

She blinked at him, her gaze still uncomprehending and he just broke. Yanking her against him, his arms closed around her like steel and his mouth crashed on hers furiously for just a second. "It's you, all right. It's the fact it makes me crazy just thinking about you, jumping in front of that bullet today. It's the fact I can't stand that you got hurt today because of me."

"It was nothing," she whispered hoarsely, feeling almost dazed by the passionate fury in his kiss and his arms holding her so close to him. "And it's my job."

"Not anymore," he replied, implacably.

"I'm not leaving." She was just as determined. "I'm not going to trust you to anyone else." The mere thought was unacceptable and her hands skimmed over his chest in unconscious reassurance.

Her words were telling and they made him swallow. It seemed he'd been wrong about one thing; whatever was going on between them, he wasn't alone in it. Booth wanted to let her go, but yet he could only bring her closer. "I can't let you stay," he said huskily, breathing her in.

"And I can't go," she whispered as her mouth crashed against his in a frenzy.


	22. Need You Now

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Let me just say thank you to every one that continues to read and review. The encouragement is lovely :) Enjoy!

**Need You Now  
**

* * *

Within seconds, clothes were strewn all over his kitchen. A jacket, her blouse, his socks, her bra.

He pressed her against the wall next to his fridge, but did so gently, conscious of the small bandage on her arm. At this point, Brennan was only wearing a pair of white cotton panties. Booth wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. He couldn't get her close enough. She was pressed flushed against his chest, skin to bare skin, arms holding him just as tight, but he needed more. He kissed her and kissed her until he was almost dizzy from lack of air, but it wasn't enough. If the frantic way she was kissing him back was any indication, it wasn't enough for her either.

He breathed her name …no, not really her name—_Bren_—the diminutive that before him had never sounded so intimate. Brennan gasped when his hands cupped her bottom and lifted her. Automatically, her legs wrapped around his waist, holding on as she felt him move. "Booth?" she whispered.

"My bedroom," he replied, eyes dark and searing as he walked out of the kitchen. "My bed." _Mine all night long_. "Going to bury myself inside you and make love to you until I can forget the fact that you could have fucking died today."

"You too," she said, face buried against his neck. Nearly trembling, she held him tightly. "Goddamn it, you too."

His bedroom door slammed shut behind them and he carried her straight to the bed. Without even turning back the covers, he placed her on top of it. Unlike her, Booth still had his pants on, but she wouldn't release him long enough for him to step back and drop them. Instead, Brennan helped him yank pants and underwear down without barely losing contact.

Feminine hands ran feverishly over his skin and her legs spread to accommodate his body. He groaned, fitting perfectly between her thighs. Her panties were in the way—the only thing in the way—but he didn't dare remove them. When her own hands moved to the waistband, Booth circled her wrists gently. "Not yet." He moved her hands up, pressing her palms against his chest. "Not until I've kissed your mouth raw and sucked your nipples until they ache and made you so wet that you're desperate to have me inside you."

Her body broke out in goosebumps and a sound between need and demand caught at the back of her throat. She kept her eyes open as his mouth lowered to hers, but they closed helplessly when he stroked his tongue inside.

He kissed her, not with aggression, but with single-minded focus. Air was breathed in a gasp when he trailed his lips along her jaw or when they glided along the side of her neck, sucking and inevitably branding. But, he always came back to her mouth—capturing, tasting, claiming. Soft kisses that barely brushed her lips. Deep ones that made her toes dig into the mattress. Teasing strokes of his tongue and the slight sting of teeth. She let it all wash over her until it was too much and then she pushed him hard.

Taken by surprise, Booth fell to his back and before he could blink, Brennan was straddling him. Blue fire glittered down at him. "You're not the only one who gets to touch."

"Never said I was," he murmured, stroking his hands down her back. Fingers slid under the waistband of her panties to cup her pert ass. He squeezed and pressed her down against him, desperate for friction.

Brennan spread her hands on his chest, stroking toned, hard flesh with relish. Her fingernails dragged lightly over small, flat nipples before her tongue joined in, licking daintily. Booth groaned, automatically grinding her harder against his cock. Her hands were everywhere and her mouth wasn't far behind, and with every stroke and every kiss, his fingers would dig in, rocking her over and over again.

It was his idea to leave her panties on, but Booth discovered there was no better torture than hot, _damp_ cotton rubbing over his dick. "_Fuck_," he cursed, rolling over so that she ended up beneath him one more time. "You drive me crazy," he confessed raspily, pressing a deep kiss to her silken throat. "So damn crazy, you know that, right?"

Brennan rather thought that the sentiment was absolutely mutual, but appallingly enough, her brain seemed incapable of putting together a coherent sentence. Certainly not when Booth was naked on top of her, trailing his mouth in a row of tiny kisses to her breast and licking one nipple to painful hardness.

She arched against his lips and he accepted the wordless invitation by taking the pink tip into his mouth and sucking. Long and hard. He braced a hand on the bed and trailed the other one up the side of her body, palming her neglected breast.

"Booth," she panted, curling one hand over his nape, sensation arrowing in a direct line from the tip of her breasts straight to the throbbing pulse between her thighs. "_Booth_."

Her body bucked up, rubbing against him and silently begging. Booth turned his attention to the tight nipple he'd been rubbing with his thumb and as his mouth closed over the pearled flesh, he stroked a hand down, sliding inside her panties and cupping wet, heated flesh. She surged up into his touch with a delirious moan. When his fingers slicked inside, he felt her nails bite into the back of his neck where she'd curled one hand. The other one she stroked up and down his back, nails raking gently.

Automatically, her legs spread wider, hips moving without her permission to ride his fingers. Brennan bit down on her lip, trying to hold the pleasure back. He was working her over without mercy, plunging his fingers inside before sliding out and rubbing her clit in two hard strokes and then into her again. It would be so easy to let him send her over the edge, to just close her eyes and let his fingers push her into a sweet, rushing orgasm. But as much as she wanted that, it wasn't what she needed.

Breathing heavy, fighting for control, her hands moved to cup his face. He looked up at her, releasing her nipple, leaving it wet and achy. She brought his face close to hers, kissed him hard. "I need you," she said in a voice so hoarse it seemed impossible that it was her own. "I need you. _Please_."

Brennan wondered if he understood, but then his fingers slid slowly out of her and she knew he did. Without taking his eyes off her, he popped the two fingers he'd worked inside her into his mouth. She nearly gasped. The taste of her seemed to make his eyes darken to near black. Even when he pulled his fingers free, she couldn't stop staring at his mouth. It was the feel of his hands tugging off her panties that finally brought her out of her trance.

Her body arched, her moan soft and husky at the feel of him, sliding into her, slow and steady. She locked her legs tightly around his hips and wound her arms around his neck. His lips brushed hers, hectic breathing and whispered words that sent her already thrumming pulse into overdrive. "Incredible," he murmured into her ear. "Everything about you is fucking incredible." Eyes squeezed shut, Brennan struggled to breathe. He stroked all the way in and then out. Before he plunged home again, one hand tunneled in her hair. "Look at me."

When she did, Booth inhaled sharply as he entered her again. She felt amazing, and like home and the future, and he couldn't look away. She was turning him inside out with that crystal clear blue gaze. When she gasped his name again, he couldn't help but close his own eyes for a moment and press his forehead to her shoulder. He felt her own fingers slide through his hair, the caress so tender it made his throat work. Her fingers tugged on his hair until his mouth was on hers again and the kiss turned harsher, tenderness with a very hard edge.

"_Yes_," Brennan breathed, clenching all around him.

He moaned loudly, thrusting faster, harder. Fingernails raked him not so gently anymore and he palmed her hips. Booth kept his eyes open and urged her to do the same. "I wanna see you shatter under me," he growled.

It was impossible not to, the sheer force of his intensity shattered her. When her eyes went blind, he choked out her name and joined her.

**-x-**

Brennan shifted in his arms and Booth automatically tightened his hold. A glance at his bedside table told him it was too early. Or very late, depending on how you looked at it. The glow of the digital clock read 4:47.

"Go back to sleep," he murmured in the darkness.

"I can't."

"You have to be exhausted." He brushed his lips over her hair in silent apology. "I keep waking you up." He should probably feel guiltier about that, but not for a moment could he regret any of the times that he'd made love to her that night.

She turned in his arms, one leg sliding over his hip as she whispered, "Yes, we've had quite a few slips tonight."

In the darkness, it was impossible to read her face. But her tone was even and so was his when he said, "I'm done pretending."

The tensing of her body was minute, but she was so close to him, her body nearly wrapped around his, that Booth felt it. "Is that what you've been doing?" she asked softly.

"We both have." He stroked down her back, his hand curving possessively over the sweetly rounded curve of her bottom. "And you know it."

"It was just supposed to be that one night," she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw on the words.

"But it wasn't. It can't be." Not between them. Not when nothing had ever felt quite so perfect as the feel of her in his arms. "You _know_ we've been fooling ourselves."

She did know. God, it had been impossible to keep her distance. Not just tonight, but any number of times since that first night with him. The amazing thing was, not that she was back here with him, but rather that since that first time, they'd only given in once. Thinking of that frantic coupling against his bedroom door weeks earlier and remembering how incredibly desperate she'd been to have him again, Brennan sighed helplessly. Against all odds and all reason, she had developed one incredibly glaring weakness.

Justice Seeley Booth.

It was ridiculous, it was dangerous, and it was impossible to deny. And despite the fact that the realization should have sent her fleeing from his bed, she snuggled closer into his warmth. "This is a complication I never anticipated," she muttered against his skin. "It's very inconvenient."

Booth nearly chuckled at her disgruntled tone. "Believe me, Bones, I never saw you coming either."

She nipped him lightly with her teeth, a small retaliation for the nickname. Booth dipped his head and found her lips, knowing the tiny bite had been mostly just for form. He kissed her sweetly and then stroked his hand in a lulling caress over her back. Arm going around his waist, head tucked neatly under his chin, and one thigh draped over his hip, Brennan closed her eyes and went to sleep.

**-x-**

Morning light filtered gently through the windows and bathed the naked curve of her back in a soft, soft glow.

Booth propped his head on a hand and studied the woman lying face down on his bed and sound asleep. She looked so beautiful and so delicate. He'd never had the chance to observe her quite like this. Only one other time had he woken up to her in his bed and that morning, as soon as her eyes popped open, she had practically fled. He'd let her. Knowing that she was probably feeling raw and vulnerable after trusting him with her nightmares, he had brushed a kiss over her forehead and let her go without a word. But this would be a different morning altogether and he had no plans to do anything of that sort.

Leaning forward, he brushed her hair aside, baring the curve of her nape and shoulders. Angel-soft, Booth pressed a kiss to the tiny, tiny mole he'd discovered at the base of her neck. Her skin was infinitely soft under his lips. Yes, she felt delicate and she looked it too, but he knew she wasn't. There was so much strength in her and it was as arousing as the blue of her eyes or the curve of her breasts.

Long lashes seemed to flutter but her eyes remained closed. Helpless, Booth risked another kiss to her nape and then another and another, scattering tiny little kisses over the back of one shoulder. His fingertips whispered down her spine, brushing the edge of the bed sheet around her hips.

Booth hesitated, torn between wanting to touch her and wanting to watch her sleep. He was leaning towards watching her a little longer because he had never seen her so utterly soft and relaxed, but then a husky voice murmured, "Don't stop now."

His gaze flew to her face and he saw that her eyes remained closed, but there was a wicked smile curving her lips. Smiling himself, Booth swept the sheet aside, palming one soft, rounded buttcheek. She moaned her approval softly and arched into his touch.

He moved to straddle her thighs, running both his hands over the length of her body, up the curve of her back and then back down, cupping that perfect ass. It was impossible not to groan a little at the view of her curves under his hands. God, but she was all sinful curves and strokable skin and Booth didn't think he could possibly ever get enough. When she pressed her face deeper into the pillow, he lowered his torso, running his hands over her side and then bracing them on the bed.

Chest pressed flushed against her back, he lined kiss after kiss against her nape. Then his teeth scraped lightly over the side of her neck until he was whispering in her ear, "You taste so sweet." He licked at her skin, pelvis rocking against the curve of her bottom, nestled so perfectly against him.

Brennan moaned, hands sliding over the bed to grip the sheets beneath her. The movement caught Booth's attention and suddenly tension seeped inside him like a storm. She turned her head back, watching his eyes darken tumultuously and followed his gaze to the bandage—no longer quite so neat—wrapped around her arm.

With a foul curse, he moved away, dropping heavily to his back next to her. Immediately Brennan twisted around, and before he could say a word, she straddled him. Hands pressed to his chest, she stared down at him. Booth stared back and she could read him the way she could read no one else. He was feeling responsible, she knew. He was probably wondering if there was any possible way he could talk her into turning this particular job over to someone else. She could see in that stormy gaze that perhaps he was even considering pushing her away if that was what it took.

_I don't think so, Your Honor._

She deliberately hadn't bolted yet and she wasn't about to let him do so either.

Her fingers splayed on his chest. "I said … don't stop."

Hands closed around her waist and tightened automatically. "Brennan—"

Her mouth landed on his, swallowing his words, stealing his breath. "I'm not going anywhere. You can just disabuse yourself of that particular notion."

"Goddamn it," he breathed furiously, even as he kissed her again. "You shouldn't be anywhere near me."

_I can't be anywhere else_.

She didn't say the words out loud, but he could see it in her face. This was a losing fight.

A torn growl escaped him as he grabbed her hips and impaled her on his cock. He had a hell of a morning hard-on and she slid like warm velvet over him. "God!" he gasped as she braced her hands on his shoulders and began to ride him.

Silken and delicious, her breasts swayed hypnotically and he was cupping them and lifting his head from the pillow to kiss and lick and suck them. She groaned and rode him harder, fingernails digging into his skin. He raised up, curling an arm around her waist to keep her pressed against him and bracing a hand behind him on the bed to gain some leverage. Her legs wound around his waist and suddenly, she wasn't just riding him, but rather they were moving together. He was sitting on the bed and she was on his lap, wrapped around him and Booth could barely even breathe.

_Jesus_. How was it even possible to push something away that you needed so desperately? It wasn't. So he held her closer, kissed her throat, stroked her hair. She whispered his name, again and again, building towards a climax that would wreck them both. Unable to fight it, he simply gave in, drowning in her heated skin and soft cries and tight, clenching body.

**-x-**

"I'll cancel the keynote address at Temple," he murmured a long time later, his arms wrapped around her and holding her closely, back to his chest. "And every meeting, appointment, or engagement that doesn't take place in my office."

Brennan sighed. Back when she had first arrived, he had fought her so hard on this, wanting to maintain as much normalcy and control as possible. That he was giving that up now—not for himself, but for her—somehow tore her apart. "Booth—"

"No, you don't get to argue with me on this," he warned her as if he could read her mind. "I get to protect you too."

"You already have a job," she attempted to tease.

His fingers laced with hers over her stomach, breath warm and soft against her nape. "I'm not going to let you be hurt again."

"Booth…" Brennan sighed his name out in slight exasperation. Getting hurt was part of the job, why couldn't he understand that? "It's _my_ job to keep _you_ safe, not the other way around."

"We can argue all day about this," he said, voice calm but steely. "But I can be just as stubborn as you."

Her disgruntled little growl nearly made Booth smile. He buried his face against her hair and inhaled deeply. They had finally given in and it was so achingly sweet, but still…

She needed to protect him.

He needed to keep her safe.

And on that particular battle, there could be no giving in. For either of them.


	23. Full Attention

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: OK, I have been PMed into submission. In my defense, I'll say I have been posting at least once a week. But that's probably small comfort so you're getting this tonight instead of Sunday. When I fall asleep in court in front of the judge tomorrow, I'll refer him directly to you'all! :)

**Full Attention**

* * *

Brennan spooned brown sugar on Booth's oatmeal, then walked around the counter where he was heaping scrambled eggs onto their plates.

Booth raised his head and smiled. "What?"

"Your tie is loose." Brennan explained soberly, reaching for the fabric.

He watched the intent look on her face as she looped the tie. When she was done, Brennan stepped back and he was quick to snake an arm around her waist. "Hold it there, Bones." With a flirty smile, he captured her lips, kissing her deeply.

"Was that for knotting your tie?" she inquired with kiss swollen lips.

Booth grinned. "That was for looking so cute doing it."

Her nose scrunched and her lips parted, to deliver some smartass comment, Booth was sure, but the ringing doorbell stopped her in her tracks. She looked at her watch. "Agent Sullivan is early."

"Yeah, 'cause he knows he'll get breakfast." Booth released her and reached for another plate. "That's why I made extra."

Booth was right. Once Brennan let Sully in, he headed straight for the kitchen. He served himself coffee, spooned some eggs into the empty plate on the counter and dug in with a happy smile. Brennan watched him with a frown. Booth laughed out loud. "Sully, you'd better start talking soon or she'll cut you."

"Oh, you mean you want an update on the case?" he asked innocently.

"I'm serious, man," Booth chuckled. "By the way, congratulations. Cam told me the news yesterday. Took you long enough to make an honest woman out of her."

"That makes no sense," Brennan couldn't help piping in. "Marriage is a socially imposed construct and has no bearing on someone's honesty. In fact, based on the divorce rate in this country, the institution appears to foster deceit rather than honesty."

"So, gonna take a wild guess here and say you're not a fan of marriage," Sully commented without taking offense.

"I'm not morally opposed to it, I simply fail to see the point." Brennan shrugged. "It's just a piece of paper."

"Just a piece of paper?" Booth raised a challenging eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Sully was nobody's fool. Sensing the impending debate slash argument, he was quick to jump in with a report. "So, we ran down every person that got a visitor's day pass the day of the competition. Everyone checked out except for one." Booth and Brennan immediately came to attention. "Tim Murphy. Date of birth and address were made up. The ID provided to get the visitor pass was bogus."

"Of course it was," Brennan growled in disgust. "Anyone could get a day pass."

"Unfortunately, that's true," Sully agreed. "All they had to provide was an ID. It'd be child's play for any pro to forge one."

"Please, Sul, tell me you have some good news."

"Maybe." Sully pulled out his cell phone, hit a few keys on the touch screen. "Okay, the visitor pass thing was a dead-end, but CSU pulled hundreds of prints and even hair follicles from the top level of the auditorium." He turned the phone so that they could see the picture on the screen. "There were a few pops. Some people with priors, mostly misdemeanors, but this is the guy that's giving me a nice little buzz."

"William Preston," Brennan read from the screen in front of her.

"Ex-military. Army sniper," Sully explained. "That's why he was in the system. He was discharged five years ago and did a stint with Dallas HRT but has been off the radar for the last three years."

"So you have no idea where he is?" Brennan guessed with an ill-concealed frown.

"Last known address was in Austin but it's no good. He hasn't lived there in three years." Sully tapped the picture on the phone. "He got a little sloppy, left a partial print behind, but it looks more and more like this is a professional job and I think this is our guy."

Booth studied the dark-haired, pale skin man in military garb. "This guy was trained by the freaking U.S. military and now he's trying to hunt me down. That really pisses me off."

"Is that because you served in the military, as well?" Brennan sent him a puzzled glance. "Would you feel better if the person trying to kill you were a civilian?"

"Maybe," Booth muttered and then sighed in frustration. "If he's a pro, then someone's paying him. It's not personal to him, someone else is pulling the strings."

"Right," Sully nodded. "Which means it may very well be personal for whoever that is."

"Or it may be political or it may be just another crazy," Booth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have no idea, do we?"

"Preston is our best lead right now," Sully acknowledged. "He's off the grid, but he's not a ghost. I am going to find him, Seel and whoever is calling the shots."

Brennan pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying something Agent Sullivan would not appreciate. He was doing everything he could, she knew and it wasn't his fault that he didn't have better news.

"Agent Sullivan, can you please email me any info you have on Mr. Preston?"

"Do I wanna know why?"

She shrugged casually. "Perhaps the CIA can assist."

Sully knew she was no longer an operative, but her request told him she still had contacts in the Agency and she was planning on tapping them. "Sure," he smiled winningly. "Assist away, doc."

**-x-**

"You're losing very badly," Brennan noted, doing a quick tally of her score so far.

"Gee, I wonder why," Booth drawled, extending a hand and lazily stroking the curve of her hip.

Brennan felt her nipples bead at the slow caress and she eyed him suspiciously while he eyed his tiles. "You assured me you were perfectly capable of playing nude without becoming distracted." Her gaze ran over his lean body, naked and stretched out on his elbow against his dark navy sheets. "It was a blatant lie, wasn't it?"

Booth laughed out loud, warm and rich. "Of course it was." His eyes went from the game board to her and he swept the game aside without hesitation. "You caught me."

"Hey, I was winning," Brennan protested as the board fell on the floor, tiles scattering. "And you're picking that up."

He just smiled wide, crawling over her, his hard body pressing against her soft one. "You weren't really expecting me to concentrate, were you?" Booth slid a hand slowly between her thighs, cupping her gently against his palm.

Her body was pleasantly achy from the sex they'd had earlier, but warmth pooled at his touch, her hips moving restlessly against his hand. "I did expect your full attention, yes," she breathed primly.

"Oh, believe me," he whispered with a kiss against her neck, "you have my full attention."

"On the game," she corrected, palms pushing playfully on his chest until he was flat on his back and she was draped over him. "You were supposed to be concentrating on the game."

"I tried," he said innocently, voice going hoarse as she began kissing down his chest. "I tried so hard, but you were just there …naked and gorgeous and so very distract—_oh,_ _damn_." He jerked and gasped out a groan when she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Brennan smiled and traced her tongue along his small slit, enjoying the way he twitched. His skin was so soft here, even as it grew hard in her mouth.

Her lips slid over him, mouth hovering just over the tip of his cock as she blinked up at him. "So, you're saying it's my fault?"

Before he could respond, her warm mouth surrounded him again. His fingers tangled gently along the back of her nape and he moaned. Brennan applied a soft suction. His breathing grew hard, and when he gave a tentative thrust, she murmured encouragement to him, sliding him all the way in. Her tongue and throat worked and his legs started to grow restless beneath her.

She pulled off of him so quickly that his cock bobbed toward his stomach, and Brennan smiled again as she used her fingers to trace the underside of his penis. "Perhaps, we should get dressed and start the game over."

Booth's eyes widened in shock and horror. "Are you serious?" Brennan laughed as she slid up his body. She began to press kisses along his neck and chest and he growled, low in his throat. "Not funny."

She pulled back and stared at him. His eyes were glassy and he was staring at her breasts, and it was clear all thoughts of any game were gone completely from his mind. Taking mercy on him, she fisted him smoothly and sank down his length.

His hands shot to her hips. Her own slid over his hard stomach and up his chest and her fingernails raked gently over his skin. She moved over him, testing a slow rhythm. He was practically vibrating beneath her, gaze riveted to hers. Her hips picked up speed and his eyes went impossibly darker.

Brennan gripped the sheets over his shoulders and pressed her chest flushed to his. "Harder?" she whispered against his mouth.

"_Yes_." His hands tightened and she moved faster. "Hell yes."

She nearly smiled at the response, loving the way he sounded, the way he felt and tasted. Her lips met his in an open-mouthed kiss, tongues stroking madly. Booth ran his hands up her back and buried his fingers in her hair. He held her head as they kissed and his hips jerked beneath her, meeting her quickening pace.

Brennan broke the kiss with a gasp, throwing her head back, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. He pressed his mouth to her throat, feeling the pulse beat wildly. From her hair, his fingers skimmed down her spine and closed over her bottom, digging in, a silent encouragement to the way she was riding him. Hard and fast, she whipped them both into a heated frenzy.

With a husky cry, she pulsed around him. He moaned heavily at the feel of her coming all over him, silken, hot, and tight. It pushed him right over the edge, her name a hoarse sound on his lips. She collapsed against his chest and he closed his arms around her damp body in a daze.

For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing. She didn't move away from him and Booth stroked her back softly, enjoying the way she was draped so trustingly over him. He liked getting her all loose and relaxed, but eventually he felt the tension slowly creep back in.

He sighed, unsurprised. She'd been nothing but tension and stress since Sully's visit a few days earlier. It seemed like getting her into bed was the only way to relax her and even that only lasted until the buzz of the orgasm faded. "Stop worrying," he murmured, fingers threading gently through her hair. "Just for a few minutes."

Brennan didn't bother to misunderstand. "I can't."

"The Court's closed through the holiday." Just like every government building, the Supreme Court was closed for Thanksgiving. "And I won't be anywhere even remotely public, so let's try and forget about everything that sucks just for the next few days."

Brennan raised her head from his chest to look at him. "I'm sorry about Parker."

He kissed her shoulder sweetly in appreciation. "It's Rebecca's year," he said softly. "And it'll be safer for him to be with her, anyway."

"Angela wants us to go to her house for Thanksgiving dinner," Brennan informed him.

"Yeah, we got an invite from Sully and Cam too." Booth cupped one hand over her cheek. "But something tells me, we'll be staying home."

"It's not about security," she admitted quietly.

The almost shy tone had his full attention. "No?"

"I just …I've never really—I mean, I'm not very good in social situations and the truth is I'd rather just stay here." A soft blush stained her cheeks. "With you." She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "But if you'd rather not do that; that is, if you don't want to stay he—"

"Here with you sounds good," Booth interrupted gently. His voice a soft whisper as his lips brushed hers. "Better than good."

* * *

**-x-**

_**p.s. I'll disclose that if I've planned this story correctly, there'll be 7 more chapters after this one. So worry not, there is an end in sight.** _


	24. Sweet Honesty

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Enjoy! :)

**Sweet Honesty**

* * *

Angela skewered him with a considering, calculating look. "How was your holiday?"

"Good." Booth struggled not to squirm. "Nice."

Nice was probably a colossal understatement considering that Thanksgiving with Brennan had been pretty incredible. They'd cooked an ungodly amount of food, ate reheated leftovers gleefully and made love all damn holiday long. He taught her strip poker, she taught him how to say the word bones in every language she knew. But above and beyond the amazing sex, he had learned even more of her. They'd learned each other. She told him why her friendship with Angela went so deep. He'd told her about growing up with a man who loved alcohol more than he loved his sons. He'd held her when she told him about the first person she'd had to kill. She'd kissed the faded scar on his chest from the bullet that had nearly killed him when he'd been too green to go to war but too desperate to escape his life to care.

There was something incredibly soothing about sharing his vulnerabilities with her. Something nearly miraculous about the way she was allowing herself to be vulnerable with him.

"Angie thinks you two should have come over for dinner," Hodgins piped in, tearing into Booth's thoughts.

"Sorry, Ange," he smiled, almost unconsciously. "We just wanted to have a quiet dinner at home."

"Did you now?" Her penetrating gaze was slightly terrifying. "Exactly how much sex did you have?"

"Angie!" Hodgins chastised, but the effect was lost as he laughed at her outrageousness.

Booth refused to say a word, going for quietly dignified. Still, his cheeks blazed with color as his mind automatically provided the answer. _A hell of a lot_. And it was too fucking hot to believe.

"You're incorrigible, Ange," he shook his head. "But stop asking questions you're not going to get an answer to."

"You're boring," she pouted and then smiled wickedly. "Maybe Brennan will be more fun. Where is she?"

Booth sighed. "Meeting with some CIA contact of hers." The topic immediately leached the air of fun out of the room. "She thinks this Stires guy may be able to provide info to track the guy heading the top of Sully's suspect list."

Angela raised a surprised brow. "Michael Stires?"

"Yeah," Booth nodded distractedly. "I think that's his name."

Hodgins frowned, mind whirling. "Stires?" He definitely recognized the name because Angela had ranted about him for days. "Isn't that the asshole she lived with for—"

Angela sent her husband a killing look that shut him up, but it was already too late.

Booth's eyes narrowed. "Come again?"

Hodgins gave a weak smile. Angela tried to wave it away. "It's nothing."

Sure as hell didn't sound like nothing. "She lived with this Stires guy?" he asked tightly. "For how long?"

Angela wanted to kick her husband in the shin. "Booth, it was years ago."

"How long, Ange?"

"A few months."

"How few?"

"Six," she muttered reluctantly.

"Six?" he growled. "That's not a few, Angela. That's longer than I was married!"

"Which just goes to show you that we all make mistakes, Booth," Hodgins offered, in a desperate attempt to be helpful. The look Booth gave him said that he wasn't helping at all.

"Funny," Booth snarked, "she forgot to mention it was her ex she was having this little dinner meeting with."

"Don't be such a guy, Booth," Angela said with a roll of her eyes. With effort, she maneuvered her heavily pregnant self up from the couch. "I gotta go to the bathroom. Hodgins," she instructed her husband, "tell him not to be a jealous idiot."

"Jealously is a petty emotion," Hodgins quoted piously, eyes trained on his wife's back. As soon as she was out of range, he turned to Booth. "Dude."

"Spill."

"It was like five years ago," he replied promptly. "You don't have anything to worry about. This guy was a douchebag, which Brennan realized because she dumped his ass and moved out."

"After six freakin' months of living with him." Booth paced a little. "You ever meet him?"

"Yeah, but just a few times. It was right after Ange and I got married." Hodgins thought back. "Brennan couldn't come to the wedding and Angie blamed it all on Stires because he sent Brennan on assignment."

"Sent her on assignment?" Booth snarled. "He was her boss?"

"Yeah, something like that. I'm not clear on the details, but I think he recruited her." Hodgins almost winced, but felt that it was important to be completely honest. "Trained her."

"He was her teacher." Booth wanted to growl. Oh, things just got better and better. "Fucking A."

"Like Ange said, this was all a long time ago." He felt it important to stress that particular detail because Booth was looking especially aggravated. "I don't think Brennan has even seen this guy in years."

"Yeah, well, she's seeing him now, isn't she?"

**-x-**

He told himself he was going to keep his cool, but when she walked in the door at nearly 9PM, Booth knew he was just kidding himself. For nearly five months, she'd barely let him out of her sight and now she was coming home late. That fact alone had his blood pressure rising. "Dinner went kinda late, huh?"

The bite to his tone was unmistakable, but Brennan seemed oblivious to it. "Yes, Michael was considerably tardy." His lack of punctuality was one of the many annoying things about him that made it so easy for her to terminate their relationship all those years ago.

"Right," he said blandly. "And I guess there was a lot of catching up to do with _Michael_, wasn't there?"

Her head tilted, finally catching the edge to his tone. "Are you upset about something?"

"Gee, I don't know, Bones," he replied, blandness gone, pissyness in full force. "You tell me. Should I be upset that you went out to dinner with the guy you used to sleep with …_live with_?" he hissed. "Seems you forgot to mention that little detail."

She blinked. "You're upset because I didn't disclose my former relationship with Michael?"

"Yeah, Bones, I am." He couldn't believe her. "I'm freaking annoyed."

"Why?"

Booth gaped. "Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, right now?" By the look on her face it was quite apparent that she wasn't. "Because, Brennan," he gritted out, "going to meet the guy you used to sleep with is not the kind of thing you keep secret from the guy you're sleeping with _now_."

"It wasn't a secret," she explained calmly. "I didn't mention it because it wasn't relevant."

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

"Booth, shouldn't you be more concerned about whether Michael can help us find the man that's trying to kill you rather than about our past relationship?"

He almost laughed because she kinda had a point. "Yeah, Bones, I should be," he conceded ruefully, "but I find that I'm not."

"That's irrational."

She looked at him like he was insane and that look finally cut through his irritation and made him chuckle. "Maybe, but jealously is kinda irrational."

"You're really jealous?" Brennan sounded amazed by this fact. "Why?"

Booth sighed, completely charmed by her guilelessness. Any other woman would have known precisely why, but his beautiful genius had not a clue. "Well, for one, all these months you don't want me to so much as blink without you and then you leave me alone for hours while you have dinner with your ex." He walked forward; wound his arms around her waist. "That was very un-Brennan like, Bones."

"Well, that's because I didn't," she said smugly. "I persuaded Agent Sullivan to have a couple of agents watching the house while I was gone."

Eyebrows shot up. "What?" His lips quirked up. "Persuaded, did you?"

A prim nod. "Yes."

"Mmm …okay, well, maybe I wound myself up just a tad," he allowed wryly, one hand stroking up to cup around her nape. "Hodgins said how this guy recruited you and trained you," he nearly frowned just thinking about it. "And you even lived with him. It all just took me by surprise, you know."

"Hodgins has a big mouth," Brennan muttered. "Not the most reassuring quality in a Senator."

Booth chuckled, amused by her. "It wasn't really his fault."

"I'll bet," she said knowingly, but her stern look disappeared as her knuckles brushed over his jaw. "You don't have to be jealous, Booth."

"Okay," he murmured, his eyes automatically drifting shut at her delicate caress. "Well, answer me this one question and I won't be."

"What?"

"Did you feel anything when you saw him again?" It was a tough question to ask, but he needed an answer. "I want the truth. Whatever it is, I can handle it."

"I felt annoyed that he was late," Brennan replied, honestly. "I felt impatient that he insisted on engaging in meaningless small talk when all I wanted was to provide him with the information on William Preston and get back home. I felt glad that he agreed to look into it and get back to me." Her arms wound around his neck, lips nearly brushing his. "That's about it. Does that answer your question?"

"Oh yeah," he grinned against her lips. "Good answer, by the way." He kissed her, hands threading through her hair.

"The truth is almost always the best answer," she replied in between kisses.

Absently, she walked him backwards. Booth was distracted by her soft kisses, the pure earnestness in her response. He held her loosely within his arms and was surprised when the back of his knees hit his living room couch. They were no longer moving, but they were still kissing.

Almost entranced, Booth let his hands skim over her collarbone down to the first button of her blouse. Slowly, without any rush, he opened the garment. She did the same to his, starting at the bottom of his shirt and going up. There was the barely audible sound of fabric hitting the floor. Gaze trained on hers, Booth reached for the button of her pants. He stripped her slowly and she returned the favor with the same almost reverent touch.

Brennan smiled a little at the black boxers with the pattern of little red devils. Her fingers skimmed over the washboard perfection of his stomach and hooked on the elastic band. She gave it a playful snap. She kissed his chest and his throat, cupped his face between her hands. His eyes were a soft, melted brown that made her want to sigh. He was strong and decent and caring, full of warmth and charm. So much the opposite of her that it almost seemed miraculous that he was hers. Even if just for a little bit, she had him and she was going to savor every second of that time.

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you," Brennan whispered, because if there was one thing she didn't want was to taint the trust that had grown between them in any way. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret. It was years ago and I just didn't think it mattered."

"I know." Booth hugged her, holding her close. Her luscious curves, encased in the simplest white cotton panties and white cotton bra, molded beautifully to him. "You're the most refreshingly honest person I've ever met, Bones." A finger tracked one bra strap, sliding it down her shoulder, where he placed a soft kiss. "Angela warned me not to be a jealous idiot," he admitted sheepishly. "Guess I didn't listen very well. I'm sorry, Bren."

Brennan smiled. "Despite my better judgment, I find your idiotic tendencies … endearing."

He laughed warmly. "Yeah?" Booth trailed kisses to her neck, smiling against her skin. "So you like my irrationality?"

"Well, obviously, one should always strive to be rational," she said gravely and then her lips quirked up. "But even when you're not, I still find you awfully alluring."

Her words were breathy, blue eyes sparkling as her hands stroked down his chest and hooked on his boxers. Heat bloomed on his cheeks, sizzled deep in his stomach. Before he could so much as blink, she'd stripped him all the way, sinking to her knees in front of him. When she put her mouth on him, his knees almost gave out.

Automatically, his hands flew to her hair, threading through the soft waves. "_Bren_," he gasped and it was about all he was capable of saying because she was wrecking him. She curved one hand almost delicately over his hip and slipped the other one between his legs, palming his balls. Booth's eyes nearly crossed as she tugged gently while her mouth sucked his cock like she couldn't get enough.

The pressure was overwhelming and it was everywhere at once; in the pit of his stomach, at the base of his spine, and most of all, right between his legs where she was using a soft touch and hard suction to deliver the best damn blow job a man could want. "Oh god," he whimpered on a choked sound. "Oh, baby, please… _stop_."

She slid along the very tip of him and released him on a wet pop. "Stop?" Cherry red lips smiled teasingly up at him. "I don't think you mean that."

His tip was sensitive, swollen, and dripping and she closed those perfect lips around him again, suckling delicately. His ass clenched and his eyes closed and he breathed in, trying not to spill himself all over her mouth. "I do," he tried again. "I mean it." His cock disagreed and his hips shot forward of their own volition. She welcomed him silkily, letting him slide deep until he was practically hitting the back of her throat.

Booth gave another helpless thrust into her mouth and then let his hands slide from her hair to cup her face. "Please," he begged. "I'm gonna come." With a shudder and a ragged moan, he used his hold to slowly draw her mouth away. Grasping her shoulders, Booth helped her up, hands caressing along her body to strip her panties down her long legs. "C'mere, baby."

Almost any other time, she'd be chastising him for the endearment, but his voice was so soft and tender, his arms so gentle as they drew her forward into his body, Brennan couldn't do anything but melt into him. Circling her waist, he held her close and fell back onto the couch. She straddled his waist, knees snug against his hips, hands caressing over his chest and up to his shoulders. Booth smoothed his hands down her back and cupped her hips, holding her steady as she slid down his cock.

Her blue eyes were trained on his, ablaze and nearly unblinking. He was wet from her mouth and she was creamy and warm and he glided into her like the perfect puzzle piece. "You feel so good inside me," Brennan sighed softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. "You fit so perfectly."

"Yeah," Booth agreed huskily, hands sweeping up the line of her spine to find the small catch of her bra. The garment was simple white and lacking all pretense, but he found it sexy as all hell, just like her. Still, there was nothing like having her completely naked in his arms, so he peeled the bra away and circled her waist, holding her close to him. "We fit, Bones."

Brennan rested her head on his shoulder, smiling a little at the nickname she'd stopped fighting weeks earlier. She peppered tiny kisses over his shoulder to the curve of his neck where she buried her face, inhaling deeply. Her head dropped back on a soft moan when his hands skimmed over her side and curved over her full breasts. He rolled the nipples gently between his fingers and then drew a pebbled tip between his lips, tugging lightly.

She wound her arms loosely around his neck and began to move languidly. He showered her with soft kisses all over; her throat, her shoulders, the swells of each breast and each tight, dusky nipple. One hand splayed over her bottom, caressing the soft curves with slow circles. His other hand moved between her thighs, index finger dipping in to press against her clit. Urgency began to replace her languor and she pressed her mouth to his, using her tongue in an unconscious mimic of the movement of her hips.

His finger moved in slick circles, adding more and more pressure and Brennan cried out softly against his mouth, rocking harder against him. Her body was on fire, rising slightly to slam down again and feel him hit the end of her walls. Booth groaned, eyes trained on her and the way her face telegraphed every wave of pleasure.

"Tell me you're close," he begged and within seconds, she was pressing her face to his neck and coming apart for him. "Yes. God, yes… so damn gorgeous," he breathed, hands sliding to cup her hips firmly.

The thread of his control snapped and he shifted her under him on the couch. Her legs closed tightly around his waist and he thrust hard, groaning desperately. Booth lost himself in the scent and feel of her, so slick and warm and Jesus, fucking tight and still fluttering around his pumping cock. He came in an overwhelming rush of pleasure, flooding her with everything he had and feeling like nothing had ever felt so damn right.

**-x-**

Hours later, they left the couch for his bed and she was surrounded by strong arms that held her gently against his chest. Brennan could feel his fingertips lazily stroking her back and the almost absent-minded caress brought an unexpected lump to her throat.

They had fallen asleep on the couch and when they woke up, had sleepily made their way to bed. Without thought, she'd curled into his arms just like she had been doing since the night the attempt on Booth's life had forced them both to stop pretending. And then his fingertips stroked her back sleepily, the gesture automatic and yet breathtaking in the simple affection it conveyed.

Brennan realized she was getting used to things like that; the small touches just because, the sleepy smile in the morning when he saw her, the quick grin when she said something he found amusing. He not only wanted her, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy her and she was unsure what it said about the life she'd been leading up to now that it took her so much by surprise.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?" Sleepy reply.

"Why do you like me?"

The soft, soft question penetrated through his sleepiness like nothing else could have. Booth had no idea what had prompted the unexpected question, but he was learning that genius brain was hardly ever idle. His own mind began to whirl with the answer to her question.

_Because you're real._

_Because you make me smile._

_Because you challenge me._

_Because you're so sweet and don't even realize it._

_Because nothing's more exciting than being with you._

_Because, against all odds, you've remained so incredibly innocent._

_Because as stunning as you're on the outside, I'm learning just how beautiful you are where it really counts._

Each thought seemed more intense than the last and as much as he wanted honesty between them, Booth didn't think swamping her with emotions he was just sorting out himself was fair to either one of them.

"Because you're wonderful," he whispered tenderly, hoping to convey the extent of his feelings without overwhelming her.

"I …" The coldly logical part of her that would have pointed out such a reason was highly subjective and unsupported by any real evidence was easily drowned out by the flood of warmth and sheer happiness that spread at the soft words. For once, she blocked logic out. "I am?"

"Yeah." Booth kissed the top of her head, held her securely against him. "You're awesome, Bones."

Brennan smiled against his chest, relaxing against his body. Sleep wanted to claim her and she stopped fighting it. "Thank you," she murmured in the darkness. "You're wonderful too, Booth."


	25. Something To Think About

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Look at this ... it seems like a mirage, but no, it's actually a very prompt update! A great big thanks goes out to pal _Dispatch_ for providing me with so much good stuff for this chapter and this story, in general. I'd still be stuck at chapter 10, if not for her :) Also, lemme say that this story has been so difficult to write and would not be possible without every encouraging comment and PM. Thank you!

**Something To Think About**

* * *

"Well, well, don't you look …" Angela paused meaningfully as she studied Brennan up and down and then smirked, "well-rested."

The suggestive tone wasn't lost on Brennan, but ironically, Angela was exactly right. She was well-rested, because it seemed that the recipe for a good night's sleep was good sex and Booth's bed.

Taking a seat across from her friend, Brennan gave a prim nod. "I sleep very well, thank you."

"Oh, I'll bet you do." Her salacious grin flashed but then she turned serious. "What's going on with you two, Bren?"

The question brought an automatic frown because the truth was she had no answer. "I'm doing my job, Angela."

"Really?" she challenged. "I didn't realize sleeping with Booth was part of the job description."

Brennan flushed, hot color splashing her cheeks. "Don't," she warned in a hard voice. "Don't you dare."

"Then don't give me that 'it's my job' bullshit." Angela's own voice was flinty but then her gaze went soft. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to see either one of you get hurt."

_I'm not going to let him be hurt,_ Brennan thought fiercely. Of course, she was painfully aware that Angela wasn't referring to the physical and her stomach practically hurt. Because the truth was that she was awful. She was awful at emotions and relationships and the thought of causing him pain was nearly paralyzing.

"No," she whispered, almost to herself. "I'd never hurt him." Liquid blue eyes that seemed almost tortured. "I couldn't."

Angela gasped softly, finally realizing the truth of the situation. "Oh, Brennan."

Coming out of her trance, Brennan's gaze snapped to her friend's. "What?"

"Oh, my God." She leaned forward on the table as if to emphasize her words. "You love him. You're in love with Booth."

"No," Brennan hissed, head shaking frantically. "That's…that's ridiculous."

"Is it?" It was all so clear to Angela; she couldn't believe she had missed it for so long. "Does he make you crazy? Does he make you laugh?" Angela knew he did because she'd seen it firsthand. "Does he make your stomach do that funny little flip? Does he make you feel the way no one ever has before? The way you don't think anyone else could possibly make you feel?" She held up a hand when Brennan opened her mouth to reply. "Like you're perfect for each other?"

"Perfection isn't an attainable—"

"Oh, Bren, stop rationalizing for a second," Angela interrupted with pleading eyes. "You know what I mean. Right for each other. So right." Her voice was soft and serious. "Stop thinking and just feel. For once, don't worry about rationalizing something, just_ feel_ it.

Angela leaned back and without saying another word, reached for her menu. She knew Brennan was silently processing and she pretended to peruse over her various lunch options.

"I can't let my emotions get in the way of protecting him," Brennan insisted softly, looking out the diner window. There was a frown between her brows that said even she found the statement unsatisfying.

"I know," Angela conceded after a moment. "I know that, and I get it. But…" She waited until Brennan met her eyes again. "You're being too short-sighted, sweetie. You're protecting Booth now from that psycho crazy person who keeps trying to shoot at him." When her joke fell flat and she saw a flash of fear in Brennan's eyes, Angela realized just how right she was. "But Brennan, that's gonna be over at some point. The FBI is going to catch that person…and then what? Yes, your job will be over, but what about things with you and Booth? Do you want them to be over? And," she added when Brennan bit her bottom lip, looked away in thought once more. "Do you really think Booth is just going to let you walk away?"

Brennan's lashes feathered down, hiding her expressive eyes, but she swallowed hard, and Angela knew she had guessed right about just how involved her two friends were. She guessed she wasn't going to get a verbal confirmation from Brennan, but she didn't need it. Her heart grew warm but simultaneously ached a little for both of her friends. When she'd called Brennan those months ago, she'd never imagined them together romantically. She'd had one thing in mind—protect Booth with the best, and Brennan was the best. And now, it was almost as if everything had flipped. While it was true Booth still needed Brennan's professional protection, Angela had something else in mind—she wanted Brennan taken care of by the best.

And Booth was the best.

**-x-**

"What's on your mind?" Booth's eyes narrowed as he deftly deflected her kick.

"Nothing," Brennan replied instantly, her high ponytail bouncing as she evaded his attempt to take her down.

Booth snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, right," he breathed as they continued to face off on the sparring mat. "Come on. I know better than that by now, Bones." A swift kick that he was able to deflect way too easily. "You've had something on your mind for the past hour. Hell, for the past three days. It's affecting your concentration," he teased, trying to build up the smack talk to take her mind away from what was bothering her. "I've taken you down every day this week."

"Agent Sullivan still hasn't been able to find Preston despite the information Michael provided," she complained.

"Nope, that's not it."

She frowned. "Yes, it is."

"Sully will track him down," Booth said, confident in his friend's ability. "It's just a matter of time. And I'd thought you'd be a little more pleased with him since he told us Pam Nunan had moved back to Florida with her parents."

Brennan sniffed disdainfully. "He merely conveyed the information, Booth. He didn't actually get her to leave."

"Oh, I know exactly who accomplished that," Booth said smoothly. "You scared the crap out of her, didn't you?"

Her chin tilted up, her next punch connecting more solidly with the weight of her defiance. "I put a knife to her throat," she told him, for the first time disclosing what had happened that night and daring him to judge her for her actions. "I nicked her to make sure she understood how serious I was. And I told her I'd kill her if she didn't stay away from you." Her gaze was ice cold. "I meant it."

He knew exactly what she was trying to do and he wasn't having it. In a quick move, Booth gripped her wrists, chaining her arms behind her back and immobilizing her against his body. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't scare me away," he breathed practically against her mouth. "Your scary mode just turns me on. Now, I know something's been whirling away in that genius brain of yours and it has nothing to do with that crazy woman or Sully's progress." She was looking at him in clear defiance and he loosened his hold, brushing his lips softly against the stubborn set of her lips. "Talk to me, Bren."

She tensed against his hold and he immediately released her. When she walked a couple of steps away from him, Booth sighed. She turned back to him, her face nearly expressionless and he thought she would shut him out completely. Which was probably why he nearly fell on his ass when she finally spoke up.

"Angela says I'm in love with you," she admitted neutrally.

Booth was so shocked by her words that his mind blanked. "Oh," he swallowed. "I see."

He stared at her, feeling dazed. Neither one seemed capable of moving, both rooted to their spot, just a few feet away from each other. The air around them fairly hummed with a subtle electricity. Yes, they were both done pretending that there wasn't something between them—something that kept them coming back to one another, day after day, night after night. But all of that could be attributed to many things. Passion. Desire. Attraction. Even affection. But love was a whole new ballgame.

Now that she'd opened up, Brennan couldn't seem to stop the words from her mouth. "She says I should … that we should think about what will happen once everything …once my job is done. She says we should discuss it."

"Um … do you wanna talk about it now?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know," Brennan whispered. But perhaps she did know. And perhaps she should work this out for herself before she talked to him about it, but somehow, he was quickly becoming someone—the one—she told things to. She'd led such a private life before, but being with Booth had her constantly thinking about …more. She wondered if it was unfair of her to burden him with irrational emotions and illogical feelings, but the truth was that she wanted his thoughts. This man who stood up for justice, who was fierce about what he thought was right but was also goofy in the kitchen and tender in bed …she wanted him to know what she thought about things. Even when they didn't agree.

Booth stared at her, watching as a million emotions flittered across her face. She could be oh so stoic and impassive at times, but whenever she was like this, that mask of iciness peeled away and she just felt, he couldn't help but be stunned by her beauty and the sheer honesty of her. He'd never known anyone as purely honest as this woman, who liked to rationalize nearly every situation.

In his career, he'd known a lot of people who'd claimed to value truth and honesty when in reality; those were nothing but pretty words spoken out loud. But not for Brennan. She made him crazy sometimes with just how frank and open she was with her thoughts, but he also admired it. She could be shocking in her honesty, but refreshingly enough she was incapable of playing sly games. In that way, her soft confession shouldn't have shocked him.

But he'd never expected _this_.

She had been distracted the past few days, but he never would have imagined it was because of something like …love. She'd been thinking of him. Of them, in a way neither one of them had ever brought up. All he knew in that moment was that he couldn't imagine his life without her anymore. She was like no one else, always completely herself, and he realized that it allowed him to be completely himself—possessive, irrational, affectionate, passionate, playful …all of the things he usually composed under strict formality and black robes. He couldn't imagine giving that up, giving her up. He wanted her in his life. He needed her.

He loved her. Jesus, he'd fallen in love with her.

There was a strange buzzing in his head and Booth saw Brennan walk to the bench where they'd dropped their towels and water bottles. He blinked, realizing the buzzing was the sound of his cell phone. She tossed it at him and he grabbed it automatically.

The caller ID read 'Sully" and for a moment, Booth thought about rejecting the call and finishing the conversation. But that polite mask of professionalism was back in place and her gaze was trained meaningfully on the phone.

"Booth," he answered. After a few minutes, he nodded and ended the call. His gaze locked with Brennan's. "The FBI just picked up William Preston."

* * *

**-x-  
**

**Ok, I reward you with quick updates and you reward me by not lurking, yes? :)**


	26. Punitive Damages

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Hiatus is almost over and what better way to celebrate than with an update! I'm trying very hard to be much quicker with the updating. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around through the long posting gaps! :)

**Punitive Damages**

* * *

"You've been read and understood all your rights, haven't you, Mr. Preston?"

A polite smile. "Absolutely."

For a man in an FBI interrogation room, William Preston was way too cool. Sully didn't like it. It told him this probably wasn't the first time and it pissed him the hell off that a former Army soldier had turned killer-for-hire so easily.

"Tell me, Billy," he asked conversationally, "is it all about the money?"

A bland smirk that made Sully want to punch him in the face. "Going by that swanky apartment we found you in, I'm gonna say yes." He smirked back. "Gotta tell you, Billy, you've got some terrible taste in art," Sully taunted lightly. "Just 'cause shit is expensive doesn't mean you have to buy it."

"Agent Sullivan, you can't hold me for over forty-eight hours," Preston said calmly. "Do you really want to spend that time talking about my art collection?"

"See, I bet it's that misplaced cockiness that led you to slip up." A thin, icy smile that looked scary on Sully's usually affable features. "Not only can I hold you for over forty-eight hours, but you're going down for attempted murder."

The slightest flicker of discomfort. "You have nothing to charge me with."

"I've got your DNA, Bill." The door to the interrogation room opened and Agent Shaw walked in, her young features cold and impassive as she took a seat and handed Sully a stack of papers. "I've got a witness who'll place you at the scene, picking up that visitor's pass. Sloppy, sloppy, Billy."

"Yeah, along with a hundred other people." An unconcerned shrug and tight smile. "A hundred different reasonable doubts."

"You think I'm playing games with you?" In a swift move, Sully slammed the stack of papers Shaw had given him on the table. "The thing about sub-contracting to the CIA, Bill, is that they never quite let you go. See, it's only okay when they pay you to kill people. Freelancing is a no-no. Trying to kill a judge? That's definitely not gonna fly."

"That's a lot of unfounded accusations, Agent Sullivan," Preston said lightly, but his gaze tracked to the stack of papers on the table.

"I've got federal agents crawling over every hidey-hole you have." He tapped a sheet of paper pointedly. "Luckily, I know where every single one of them are and I know that in one of them, I'm gonna find the weapon, the bullets, and probably even schematics, carefully planning both attempts."

A muscle ticked unexpectedly. "I don't believe I have to answer any more of your questions, Agent Sullivan."

"Of course you don't. You can just listen." Sully rifled through the papers, pulled one out with particular relish. "Now, we chased our tails for a while, trying to find the money. You did a pretty good job there …" He slid the paper forward, tapped on a particularly glaring figure. "But not good enough. A hundred grand, wired into your offshore account, two days before the first assassination attempt on Justice Seeley Booth." Sully leaned back, his tone even and conversational. "I assume that a Supreme Court Justice would be worth more than that, so I can only imagine that there would be quite a bit more once you actually finished the job. Too bad you're a piss poor shot, Billy."

**-x-**

On the other side of the observation glass, Booth and Brennan watched with near identical focus.

"Tell you what, Bones," Booth murmured, absently. "I'm gonna be offended if I'm only worth a hundred grand."

"You're not," she replied without even thinking about it, her gaze trained on the interrogation in front of her. "Your worth is incalculable."

Booth's head turned to her but she was still focusing on the interrogation room. He smiled slightly. "Thanks, Bones."

**-x-**

"The payment was made through a shell corporation," Sully explained. "It took a while to track down the source, but Agent Shaw here is very persistent and very, very thorough."

"Your payment came directly from KBC Systems, Mr. Preston," Genny Shaw supplied, tapping the paperwork that documented her painstaking work on the matter.

"Who paid you, Billy?" Sully slid another paper directly in front of Preston. "Here's a list of their Board of Directors and shareholders. Just point to a name."

"You have nothing but circumstantial evidence." There was a thin line of sweat dripping down his spine, but William Preston merely gave the list a dismissive flicker. "I think I'd like my attorney now."

**-x-**

"KBC Systems, KBC Systems," Booth murmured the name under his breath.

"Booth?"

"I recognize that na—oh my god," he breathed. "Richards versus KBC Systems."

Brennan frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Son of a bitch! Sully was right, this is about a case."

"He's asked for an attorney," Brennan pointed to the observation glass. "Agent Sullivan can't ask him any more questions."

"He doesn't need to." Booth reached out, placed a hand at the small of her back. "C'mon, let's go get Sully."

**-x-**

"Richards v. KBC Systems, class action lawsuit, oral argument is scheduled for January 7th," Booth explained. "First case on the docket."

"Next month," Brennan murmured. "Running out of time."

"I just did my first read through of the briefs for plaintiff and defendant this past weekend." Booth went around his desk, pulling case files out. "James Richards' family sued Trent Seward and KBC Systems in a class action that joined the families of thirty other soldiers."

"I remember this one," Sully noted. "KBC allegedly sent defective body armor to Iraq. Thirty soldiers died and their families sued the company. Two of the justices have recused themselves."

"Yeah, they had to," Booth supplied, "because they owned company shares when the suit was first brought. It's an inherent conflict and they're automatically required to recuse themselves."

"Only seven justices will hear this case, then?" Brennan inquired.

"Yes, it's not ideal," Booth admitted. "But there's nothing else we can do."

"Right, that's what Cam said." Sully pursed his lips, thought back to that conversation. "Cam and I looked at the most controversial cases on the docket, focused on the ones where you're considered to be the swing vote, thinking maybe someone wanted a deadlock. But this one didn't raise any flags. You're not a swing vote and Cam said it's not a particularly controversial case, that these type of cases, disputing the damages awarded by a jury are fairly common. She said you'll likely vote to overturn the federal court and reinstate the original judgment and that it's well-known from your jurisprudence, but it's not really clear how some of the other justices are leaning."

"Yeah," Booth sighed, raked a hand through his hair. "The Justice Department has tried to convene two grand juries against KBC to bring criminal charges and has failed both times," he read from the notes he'd taken during his preliminary reading of the briefs. "However, the civil suit was much more successful. A jury awarded the plaintiffs 20 million dollars in actual damages and close to half a billion dollars in punitive damages."

"Half a billion?" Brennan raised a questioning brow. "The disparity seems quite substantial."

"It is and that's why the case has made it all the way to the Supreme Court," Booth acknowledged. "KBC appealed the verdict and the federal appeals judge overturned the punitive damage award, reducing it to 8 million."

Sully whistled. "That's a long way from half a billion."

"Yeah, way too long. Freaking Hasty." Booth practically spat the name out. "He was the idiot federal judge who granted the reduction. In my opinion, he completely abused his discretion. So, of course, the plaintiffs appealed that decision and are seeking to have the original award reinstated."

"And do you think it will be?" Sully asked. "Even Cam wasn't sure which way it would go. But she did say that the one vote she could predict was yours."

Brennan's mind was whirling. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Booth replied. "My jurisprudence on this issue is particularly well known. I strongly believe it is not a judge's place to invade the province of the jury and that's precisely what we do every time we overturn or reduce damages awarded. I think it borders on unconstitutional and I only did it once as a federal judge."

Booth remembered the case very clearly. He'd had no choice because the punitive damages awarded had been nearly ridiculous considering the almost frivolous nature of the suit. "I've been appealed more on this issue that any other," he remarked. "But you know what, I'm fucking right because my reversal rate is very small."

"How small?" Brennan was curious.

"Miniscule." He could hear her curiosity and gave her a wide, confident smile. "My pristine reversal rate was one of the reasons I was appointed to the Court."

Automatically, Brennan smiled back at that cocky grin and Sully nearly rolled his eyes. "So, in this case, it's not a secret which way you would go, then."

Brennan immediately made the connection. "And that's the reason he's the target. Because they know precisely what will happen if he's alive to vote."

"With you out of the picture, what do you think the result will be on that case?"

Booth considered what he knew of the six justices that would hear the case. "Maybe a 4-2 vote to uphold Hasty's decision." After a moment, he shook his head. "Though, if I had to guess I'd say Marcus is with me on this issue, so very possibly a three-three deadlock. I mean, I can't be sure, but that would be my calculation."

"Yeah, someone calculated that too," Sully deduced. "Either way, the result is the same and KBC doesn't have to pay out half a billion dollars. That's why they're going after you." It had been driving Sully crazy, the inability to pinpoint a clear motive and now he grunted slightly as the answers fell into place. "They can't really predict with any degree of certainly for those six justices, who's voting for or against, but they could for you. Which means that eliminating you gave them the best chance of a favorable outcome."

Booth let out a foul curse. "That's a hell of a gamble."

"Not when you think about it logically," Brennan reasoned. "Not only are they eliminating the person that's sure to vote unfavorably, but also the one with the most knowledge."

Sully raised an inquiring brow. "What do you mean?"

"Booth has written on this topic extensively," Brennan explained. "I'd wager you're more knowledgeable in this area of the law and thus more likely to persuade those justices that are unsure of their decision. That must have factored into the decision to target you, as well."

Booth cast her a surprised look. "How do you know that?"

"I've looked through some of the law review articles you've written," she said casually. "Many of them are on the subject of judicial responsibility vis-à-vis punitive damages awarded and are considered very well-respected."

Booth stifled the overwhelming impulse to kiss her senseless. _So damn smart_, he thought. When it wasn't driving him crazy, that genius brain of hers turned him the hell on.

"This is gonna get me warrants for every single member of KBC's board of directors." Sully paced Booth's office with steely determination. "Maybe even every damn shareholder. I'm gonna dig through financials, personal lives, company records and haul them all into my interrogation room, if necessary. William Preston might not, but someone damn well will tell me who paid him to kill you."

"You know," Booth mused, "the more I learn what's going on, the more pissed off I get."

**-x-**

"Hey," Booth smiled sexily from his reclined position on the bed. "Stop cleaning your gun and come over here."

Brennan smiled but shook her head. "It has to be cleaned, Booth."

"C'mere, Bones," he cajoled with a pat to the bed. "I've got something for you."

Her smile turned to a smirk. "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get it whether I go over there right now or twenty minutes from now."

"Funny," he smirked back. "But get your mind out of the gutter." He stretched, opening one of the drawers next to his bed and pulling a little blue box out. "See?" Booth shook the little box. "You gotta come over here if you want your present."

He'd learned she was nothing if not naturally curious and sure enough, the need to learn what was in the box lured her to the bed like a magnet. "You got me a present?" Brennan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

_Ah, just because, Bones. _Her utter bewilderment tugged at his heart. As soon as she was close enough, he tugged on her hand and tumbled her to the bed. "Early Christmas present."

"Christmas is a commercialized holid—"

"Ah, no." He kissed her mouth, shutting her up. He'd heard all about the bastardization of the holiday and they were gonna have to agree to disagree on that one. "Don't bash Christmas. It's the most magical time of the year!" he enthused with child-like glee.

"In any case, Christmas is a few weeks away."

"Fine, late Thanksgiving present then."

"But it isn't customary to bestow—"

Sometimes he wanted to throttle her. "Okay, Bones, no reason then!" In exasperation, he drew the present back. "If you don't want it, then—"

"No!" Brennan scooped the box from his hands. "I mean, I'd like to see it, please."

Her fingertips traced over the box lovingly and his exasperation vanished. "Open it," he encouraged softly, his gaze trained on her face.

When she opened the box and saw the figurine inside, her eyes flew to his face. A soft little gasp escaped her.

"What do you think?" Booth was suddenly nervous, unsure whether he was going to be bringing up bad memories, instead of happy ones. "You can start your collection again."

Reverently, she pulled out the tiny figure of Brainy Smurf clad in black judicial robes. "Oh, Booth."

He'd been watching Saturday morning cartoons one day, weeks ago, when she'd told him about watching the Smurfs with her brother as a kid. She'd loved them so much, she even began to collect little smurf figurines, but she'd lost the collection during one of the many moves she and her brother went through after their parents' death.

"Oh, baby, don't cry." He threaded his fingers through her hair and pressed his lips to the salty tears on her cheek. "It's supposed to make you smile."

"It does," she assured through a watery smile. "But I can't seem to help the overly emotional reaction."

"That's okay," he murmured, drawing her against him.

Brennan settled against his warm, bare chest. After a few moments, she said, "Booth, please tell me you didn't go get this yourself?"

He laughed. "When would I have been able to do that, Bones? You never let me out of your sight." With a kiss to her forehead, he confessed, "One of my clerks took a break from legal research and got it for me."

"Thank you, Booth." She smiled against his skin, clutching the tiny figurine in her hand. "I love my present."

**-x-**

"Agent Sullivan?"

Sully raised his gaze to the doorway of his office, where Genny Shaw stood expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"I have someone in my office who claims to have information on Justice Booth's case."

"You're kidding me." He shot up from his chair, rounded his desk. "What's his name?"

"Her," Shaw corrected, falling into step beside him. "Gemma Arrington."

* * *

**-x-  
**

**So ...still with me, right? :)  
**

**Also, I'm gonna pimp one of my favorite Bones blog-Bones Theory. FF doesn't allow links, but you can just google it. There's currently a vote off going on the best BB kisses. You'all should check it out and vote. Plus it's a great place to talk Bones!:)**


	27. Heart in Overdrive

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! A very belated happy birthday to the lovely _angiebc_. Enjoy! And as always, credit has to go to pal _Dispatch_ for toiling with me when I struggle! :)

Also, quick clarification: There seemed to be some confusion with the last chapter. There are 9 Supreme Court Justices, I'm aware, but in the scenario discussed by BB and Sully in the last chapter, they were talking about only 6 hearing the case because two had to withdraw and Booth would hypothetically be out of the picture. Sorry, didn't mean to confuse anyone!

**Heart in Overdrive**

* * *

_"Trent, we can't do this." A woman's panicked voice. "We can't murder a Supreme Court Justice."_

_"If that verdict gets reinstated, we're going to lose everything, Sharon. Everything!"_

_"But this is crazy!" She sounded close to weeping. "And Justice Booth is still alive, anyway. Let's just take that as a sign and forget this whole thing!"_

_"Yes, he seems to have nine lives," he snarled._

_"I can't do this anymore, Trent!"_

_"You agreed to this, Sharon. Don't you dare back down now—Sharon, don't walk away from—"_

The sound of static had Gemma Arrington hitting the stop button on the recording and giving Sully a guilty look.

"I've had this for three days," Gemma admitted softly. "I'm sorry. I know I should have come forward sooner, but I've been afraid—"

"It's okay, baby," Jocelyn Arrington soothed.

"Your mom's right," Sully reassured quickly. "You don't need to apologize, Gemma. And it's okay to be afraid. You were brave recording that conversation. That was very quick thinking."

She bit down on her lip in a nervous gesture. "When I realized what they were arguing about, I didn't think anyone would believe me." Gemma reached out, smoothed her fingers over her iphone. She had clutched it like a lifeline, heart pounding wildly as she made use of the phone's recording app. "My hands were shaking but I didn't want the police to think I was lying."

"I would have believed you, Gemma," Sully said softly. "But this is going to be very helpful when we go after these people, okay?" He nodded to Genny Shaw who handed him an evidence bag. "I need to impound your phone as evidence, alright?"

"Yes, that's fine." Gemma slid forward the phone.

Sully bagged it and gave it back to Shaw. "I want it analyzed asap and I want a voice comparison with Trent Seward and Sharon Pomeroy immediately," he instructed, naming the president and general counsel of KBC Systems.

After Shaw left, he turned back to Gemma. "I need to get your statement, Gemma," Sully explained. "Your mom can be here the entire time, but I need to go over everything again, from the beginning and I'd like to record it. Is that alright?"

Another nervous nod. "Y-yes."

"Okay. Before we get started, do you want anything to drink?" He gave her a smile meant to calm her down. "Soda or water or anything like that?"

"No." She licked dry lips and reached for her mother's hand. "I'm fine. I just want to tell you so I can go home."

"All right," he nodded and clicked on his computer's audio recording. "This is Special Agent Timothy Sullivan. I'm conducting an interview with material witness Gemma Arrington on Justice Seeley Booth's attempted murder investigation." He looked to the scared teenager in front of him. "Whenever you're ready, Gemma."

A tiny nod. "I-I was performing with my choir at a music benefit at the Kennedy Center's opera house," she began.

**-x-**

A week later, Sully had a positive voice match from the FBI crime lab and arrests warrants for Trent Seward and Sharon Pomeroy.

"So that's it? It's over?" It somehow felt surreal to Booth.

"Well, Trent Seward has already lawyered up, but Sharon's too freaked out to do anything other than cry." Sully leaned back against his desk in satisfaction. "Once she calms down, I'm pretty sure she'll come clean. She was already on the fence about this whole thing to begin with."

"And will she be offered a deal for her cooperation?" Brennan asked suspiciously.

"Most likely," Sully admitted. "It's the way it works, doc. But don't worry, Caroline Julian is nobody's fool."

"Caroline?" Booth raised a surprised brow. "She's prosecuting the case?"

"Of course, nothing but the top US attorney for you, Seel." Sully smirked. "Not to mention that the woman adores you and wouldn't dream of letting anyone else handle this case."

"Is that right?" Brennan murmured with an arched eyebrow.

"You're real funny, Sully," Booth muttered, but the faint blush on his high cheekbones told Brennan that Sully wasn't too far off the mark.

"Agent Sullivan, do you believe you've identified all the parties involved in the assassination attempts?" Brennan inquired, the levity of the moment snuffed away.

"I can't be completely sure until I question Sharon Pomeroy, but I think so." Sully turned his gaze to Booth. "I have Preston in custody and I didn't find anything in KBC's or Seward's financials that indicate there's another hit. I don't think you have to look over your shoulder anymore, Seel."

"No," Booth murmured, careful not to look at Brennan. "I suppose I don't."

**-x-**

Once Sully officially confirmed that there was no one else from KBC involved, there was no way to avoid the inevitable.

Her job was done.

They spent the entire week avoiding that simple fact by falling into bed. Or to the floor or the couch or anywhere with an available flat surface. It was easy enough to do. Booth spent the week working from home as he didn't have oral arguments for the rest of the calendar year and Brennan's official job involved translating documents, which could be done from anywhere with a laptop. She couldn't stop herself from jumping him whenever he'd come out of his office. A few times, she'd taken a break from her own work and had walked into his office while he was still working and he'd set aside his legal briefs and case law and taken her on his desk without a second thought.

Still, all the sex in the world couldn't hide the fact that it was time to leave. They both knew there was no reason for her to stay any longer, but neither one seemed capable of acknowledging it. Brennan already knew that leaving him would hurt, but she was painfully aware that their affair couldn't continue. A woman didn't have an affair with a man like Booth. He was a relationship-type of guy. And she was a woman who avoided meaningful relationships.

Perfectly aware that they were hiding behind sex, Booth knew he should grow a set and just fucking tell her that he was so goddamn in love with her. That he wanted her to stay, that he wanted her forever. And then ask her the most terrifying question of all. _Do you want that too?_ But already he knew that a woman like Brennan didn't believe in forever.

He knew he was on borrowed time and four days before Christmas, his time ran out.

"Booth?" In the darkness of his bedroom, her voice was soft and almost shy.

"Yes?"

"My brother called me a few days ago," she said, carefully. "He wants me to spend the holidays with him and his family."

"Oh." His heart skipped a beat. "I see."

"He always invites me," Brennan confessed quietly. "And I always find a reason not to go."

Booth stroked her hair in a soft caress. "And do you want to go?"

"I …I find that I do," she replied in a tiny voice. "He's my brother."

_Oh, baby._ He could hear the stark vulnerability in her voice and it broke his heart. Part of him wanted to be selfish and ask her to stay, to spend Christmas with him and his son, to show her there was more than one type of family. But she deserved the time with her brother; she deserved to know her family loved her. "You should go, Bren," he encouraged softly. "Your brother will be happy to see you."

"Will you have your son for Christmas?"

"Yes." Booth smiled, knowing she was concerned he might be alone at Christmas. "It's my year," he reassured her.

"I have a present for you," Brennan murmured. "I want to give it to you before I leave."

"When are you leaving?" He knew it had to be soon because Christmas was less than a week away.

"I-I think tomorrow," Brennan said quietly, understating immediately he was asking about when she'd be leaving his house. "I still need to get some presents and a plane ticket and I haven't been to my apartment in months."

"Okay," he agreed, swallowing the question he really wanted to ask. _When are you coming back? _Still, it was impossible to prevent himself from asking, "Bren, what are we doing?"

Her fingertips pressed against his chest in visceral reaction. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I don't …I'm not sure. I'm terrible at this, Booth."

"You know we gotta talk about it." His fingers spread into her hair, tilting her face up. "Sooner or later."

"I know," she admitted softly, heartbeat pounding in something akin to terror. "I—I just …I need time." Her voice was small and more unsure than ever. "I …I need to think."

His head lowered to find her lips in the darkness. Her mouth opened for him immediately and Booth nearly wanted to weep at the sweetness of her kiss. When she tucked her head neatly under his chin and pressed a warm kiss to his chest, instinctively his hold around her went tighter. He wanted to hold her close for the next thirty or forty, or fifty years, but first, it seemed, he had to let her go.

**-x-**

In the morning, she slipped out of bed quietly and Booth wondered if she was going to go pack. His stomach clenched. Even with the arsenal of weapons she had brought with her, he knew it wouldn't take her that long. But he was surprised because within a few minutes she was walking back into his bedroom, a brightly wrapped box in her hands.

_Ah, his Christmas present._

Booth leaned up on one elbow and had to smile at the picture she made in the tiny tank top and boy-cut panties he had discarded on his bedroom floor the night before. Unlike her, he was still naked so he held the sheets at his waist and turned to open the drawer next to his bed.

Brennan climbed back on the bed, setting the box between them. When she saw Booth turn to her with two boxes, she frowned. "I was unaware that there should be multiple presents."

She sounded so earnest, Booth held back his laugh. "There are no rules, Bones," he assured, lifting the lid from one of the boxes. "This one is more like something I forgot to give you earlier."

"You forgot?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"Yeah." Booth shrugged. "I figured Brainy smurf would be kinda lonely, so …" With a smile, he pulled a mermaid Smurfette figurine out of the box. "What do you think?"

"Smurfette," Brennan murmured, reaching for the delicate figurine. "She was my favorite." Her fingertips traced the blond hair and green fish tail. "Why is she a mermaid?"

"Beats me." Booth laughed, reached out to smooth a finger over the glossy green surface. "But she's cute, right?"

"Very." Her smile was dazzling. "Thank you, Booth."

"Okay, what do you got there, Bones?" He nodded to the medium-sized box on the bed.

Brennan carefully set aside Smurfette and placed her hands on the box, fingertips drumming nervously. "I …I'm not sure if I got the right one."

"Well, what is it?"

She bit down anxiously on her bottom lip, lifted the lid. Booth peeked inside and gasped softly. "Oh wow," he laughed delightedly, eagerly reaching in for the vintage Bakelite rotary phone. "Oh, man, look at this."

"Does it look like the one your grandfather had?"

"Yes! Totally." Booth lifted the phone, played around with the rotary dial pad. "Oh, Bren, this is so cool."

"So you like it?" she asked, even though his smile said it all.

"Are you kidding me?" His fingertips smoothed over the phone almost reverently. "I love it, Bones. It's a great present." Leaning over, he kissed her lightly. "Thank you."

Brennan smiled wide, eyes sparkling at his reaction. "You're welcome."

Booth placed the phone on his nightstand, giving it another admiring stroke before turning to her again. "Okay, your turn."

"You already gave me a present."

"Bones, c'mon …" Booth did his best little boy whine. "I already told you that wasn't really a Christmas present. It wasn't even wrapped." He tapped the box in his hands. "_This_ is the present."

With a shake of her head she reached for the box. Meticulously, Brennan peeled the colorful wrapping and then folded the wrapping paper neatly. Booth groaned. "We have to go over how to open Christmas presents."

"What?" she said primly. "I'm merely trying not to be wasteful."

He rolled his eyes, but waited patiently until she finally opened the lid of the satiny box. His gaze was rapt on her face as she traced the delicate necklace inside the case. "Oh, Booth," she sighed, head shaking slightly. "I can't accept this." Brennan was no expert, but the platinum necklace looked hand-crafted and expensive.

"Sure you can."

Helplessly, she lifted it out of the box, admired the way the metal flashed in the early morning light. "No," she repeated. "This is too extravagant. It looks very expensive, Booth."

"Oh, 'cause I'm sure you got my vintage rotary phone on sale at the dollar store," he said drolly.

"Booth …"

"Bones," he mimicked in mock seriousness. "C'mon, it's a present; you shouldn't worry about where it came from or how much it cost. Don't you like it?"

"Of course I do." Fingertips brushed over the five miniature Scrabble tiles running through the necklace. "It's perfect, Booth." Each charm looked like a platinum replica of the game's tiles, right down to the point value. The five letters spelled BONES. "It's beautiful."

"I know you didn't think much of the nickname at first—"

"I was simply surprised," Brennan interjected with a shy, half smile. "I've never had a nickname before." No, she'd had fake names and code names, but never had anyone teased her with an affectionate nickname.

He smiled his own half smile. "So you don't think it's silly anymore?"

"It's a little silly," she replied with bright eyes. "But I like it anyway."

Booth grinned. "C'mon, turn around." He plucked the necklace from her hands and went to his knees, waiting patiently until she turned, gathering her hair up to bare her neck. With a satisfied sigh he clasped the necklace and pressed a kiss to her nape. "Bones," he whispered against her skin, enjoying the intimacy of a name that was just between them. "Bones."

Playing Scrabble was never going to be the same after her. Nothing was going to be the same after her. That certainty had his fingers tensing around her shoulders, his lips pressing a fierce kiss against the side of her neck. He sucked on her skin, leaving a mark, and his fingers curled over the edge of her tank top. Almost instantly, she raised her arms and he whipped it off her and pounced.

Booth tossed her panties aside and crawled over her, skin to skin, his hips sliding smoothly between her thighs. She arched beneath him and his hand was immediately cupping her, two fingers sliding inside to coax that rich cream from her center. He closed his lips around one beautiful nipple and felt her go wetter around his pumping fingers.

She groaned, hands clenching viciously on the sheets beneath her as he worked her over. Her legs spread wider, hips thrusting up into his skillful touch. It nearly felt like he was about to push her right into a rushing orgasm when his fingers were gone. She gasped his name in surprise, blinked dazedly and then cried out when he slid down her body, grabbed her hips in a sure grip and then melted his mouth to her throbbing clit.

Her mind blanked and couldn't adjust. Heat and pleasure layered together until she felt scorched. His tongue swirled everywhere, around her and inside her; his lips rubbing and sucking and eating her out in all the crude glory of the phrase. She came against his mouth with a choked cry and he reared up and slammed inside her while she pulsed and fluttered wildly.

He'd made love to her in many different ways—soft and sweet, hard and fast, gentle and even a little rough—but for this Brennan had no description. If she'd tried to reason it out, she might have called it claiming, but there was no reason anymore, it was all chaos and feeling. Her legs closed tightly around his waist, hands flying to find purchase on the broad shoulders rising above her. Fingernails raked mindlessly over his back and Booth growled in approval, driving harder, head dipping to the curve of her neck and kissing hard, leaving some marks of his own. One hand slid beneath her, cupping her bottom, pressing her up as his hips slammed down.

"God, oh god, oh god," she choked out, unbearable tension building and building with every stroke that sent him so very deep inside her. "_Booth._"

He shuddered violently at the desperate sound of his name, whispered in that husky voice dripping with longing and nearly painful yearning. She trembled beneath him and cried out in almost painful pleasure as he spilled inside her in long, wet pulses.

A long time later, they were still trying to catch their breaths and Brennan's cheek rested against his chest. Booth felt her lips brush his skin before she raised her head to look at him. "I …I have to …" Her still husky voice trailed off and he knew exactly why.

"I know." His gaze trailed over her face, her blue eyes soft and wary and so beautiful it hurt. "I don't think I've thanked you for keeping me safe."

"Booth …"

He laced his fingers with hers, raised her hand to his lips. "Thanks, Bones," he said softly before releasing his hold.

Her lips parted as if to say something but instead she launched herself at him, hands capturing his face and kissing him hard. Before he could gather himself, she was already pulling back, away from him and sliding from the bed.

The sound of his bedroom door closing behind her made his jaw clench. He looked to the tangled sheets around him, to the side of the bed that already he considered hers. "Damn it," he murmured quietly to the empty bedroom. "I already miss you."

Part of him wondered if it wasn't a mistake, letting her go before they really talked about things. But he'd seen that wariness in her eyes, that confusion and fear that said she wasn't having the easiest time dealing with her feelings. And lord knew he could understand it, because if she was feeling even half of what he was, it was pretty overwhelming.

Booth only hoped that genius brain of hers didn't over-think things. He'd learned she tended to over-analyze and he desperately needed her to just put that brilliant brain in neutral and kick her tender heart into overdrive.

* * *

**-x-**

**I gathered last chapter was a little too case heavy to be of much interest, but it is all BB from here, so lurking is a no-no! I did agonize a bit over this chapter, so interested in what you'all think :)  
**


	28. Serendipity

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

**Serendipity**

* * *

Amy Brennan watched her sister-in-law with a curious gaze. Brennan was watching the news with rapt attention and Amy was a little surprised because from what she could tell, Russ' sister was more likely to be found reading a book than watching television.

From the moment Brennan arrived at their house, there had been something about her that Amy couldn't pinpoint. She was unusually direct and at times even bluntly inappropriate, but that wasn't really what caught Amy's attention. It had taken her a few days to figure it out, but finally she was able to put her finger on it.

"Your sister's pining for someone," she told her husband one night.

Russ raised a shocked eyebrow. "What?"

"There was something about her from the moment she got here and I couldn't figure it out," she snapped her fingers at her insight. "But it's sadness, Russ. She's sad and it's over a man."

"What?" Russ repeated with a dubious look at his wife. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I'm a woman," Amy said simply.

Russ wasn't too convinced, but Amy knew she was right. Her curiosity and instinctive desire to help out had made her itch to broach the subject with Brennan, but she was so very private that so far, Amy hadn't worked up the nerve. Not to mention that a potentially painful subject wasn't the best topic to bring up during the holidays. But Christmas and New Year's had come and gone and Brennan was about ready to return to D.C. and Amy still hadn't figured out how to help her sister-in-law.

Brennan appeared so focused on the screen in front of her that Amy wasn't sure she'd even heard her approach. It gave her the opportunity to study Brennan for a moment and the look of stark longing on those startling blue eyes took Amy aback. Automatically, she followed Brennan's gaze to the TV and she focused her attention on the news report.

_"Tomorrow, all eyes will focus on the hallowed halls of the United States Supreme Court where oral arguments for Richards v. KBC Systems are set to take place."_

Amy frowned in confusion as the reporter's tone turned especially somber.

_"Although once considered one of the least controversial cases on the Court's docket, that quickly changed last month when KBC's President and General Counsel were revealed to be behind the shocking assassination attempts on newly appointed justice Seeley Booth. _

There was a dramatic pause as the camera panned to the steps of the Supreme Court.

_"How will this affect Justice Booth during tomorrow's oral argument?" _

The voiceover continued over a shot of Booth calmly walking down the court steps. The date and time stamp said the footage had been recorded a few days earlier. Reporters flocked to him, thrusting microphones in his face and spitting out questions like bullets. He stopped, remaining silent until the reporters got the hint and stopped talking over each other.

_"I plan to do my job," he said evenly. "I'll listen to arguments and make my decision based on the law. It's what I've been doing for over half a decade and what I'm gonna continue to do."_

"Well," Amy breathed appreciatively. "He's handsome." If Brennan was startled by her presence, she certainly didn't show it and Amy sat on the armrest of the couch, listening to the reporter wrap up the segment and eyeing her sister-in-law. She didn't say a word, but to Amy, Brennan looked like she wanted to reach right through that TV screen.

_Supreme Court Justice, huh?_ Well, Amy wasn't too familiar with politics, but even she knew that was a big deal. _He_ was a big deal. It was hard not to wonder how exactly her sister-in-law had met and fallen for a fancy judge.

"So …" she said casually to Brennan. "That's him, huh?"

TV was flicked off and blue eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"

"The reason your eyes never smile," she said honestly, deciding to forego subtlety.

"I don't know what that means."

_Ah._ "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, I just …" Amy sighed. "I know sometimes it helps to talk about it. Either that or have a good cry." She smiled a little. "But you don't seem like the crying sort. So if you wanna talk …"

Brennan studied her with disconcerting intensity, but to Amy's credit she didn't flinch. The silence stretched like a rubber band, but she didn't say another word. Brennan's face was completely impassive and she seemed capable of sitting there in absolute quiet all night long.

"I didn't think it was possible to miss someone this much."

Stark and nearly toneless, but the words told Amy she'd passed some kind of test. "Aw, hon, what did he do?"

Brennan blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when a man makes a woman this sad, he almost always did something." Amy thought back to the handsome face and gorgeous brown eyes that dripped sex appeal even through a TV screen. "Is he only that pretty on the outside?"

"What? No." Brennan's head dropped back to the couch with a heavy sigh. "He's beautiful from the inside out."

Amy's heart skipped a beat at the unexpectedly poetic answer. "Then what happened?" she asked softly.

"Nothing." The word taunted her. _Nothing_ was certainly a lie, but she continued almost harshly, "Someone was trying to kill him and I was protecting him. And I did my job. I did my job," she repeated, almost to herself. "And then I left."

"Why?"

Her eyes closed miserably. "Because I was too afraid to stay."

"Oh." Amy swallowed at the heartbreaking honesty. In the six years since she'd married Russ, she'd only met Brennan a handful of times and always she'd been fairly reserved and even somewhat cold. But this woman in front of her was anything but and Amy's soft heart turned to mush. "Is he waiting for you to come back?"

Blue eyes snapped open and then she nodded slowly. "Yes and I don't know what to do," she admitted hoarsely. Brennan wasn't sure why she was admitting this to someone she barely knew, but after nearly two weeks she wasn't able to hold it in anymore. "I don't know how to give him what he needs. I don't have his kind of open heart."

"Temperance," Amy gasped in genuine shock. "Why would you say that? I don't think that's true at all."

"You don't know me well enough to form an accurate opinion," Brennan said bluntly.

"You're a private person, that's true," she acknowledged with a nod. "But there's nothing wrong with that. And it's true that I don't know you very well, but I know that you love your brother, I know that you read my girls bedtime stories, I know that you like to slip our greedy dog food under the table." A slight blush stained Brennan's cheeks and Amy smiled gently. "And honey, I know that you're lovesick over this man. I don't know him at all or what you think he needs that you can't give him, but I wouldn't second-guess your heart or its ability to feel."

Brennan swallowed. "I don't …I'll end up hurting him," she whispered. Abruptly, she stood up from the couch, voice hard yet bleak. "I'm not what he needs."

"Mmm …" Amy knew the conversation was over, but couldn't help pointing out the obvious. "Maybe that should be up to him to decide."

**-x-**

Booth pushed aside his half eaten burger and let his head rest back against his leather chair with a sigh.

God, he was bone tired and he had a full night of work ahead of him. The past few days had been truly exhausting—just dealing with the press had been particularly draining—and sitting through oral arguments on Richards v. KBC Systems had been just about as stressful as he'd expected. That particular case had been the last one heard that day and at the end of the session, Booth—just like every other justice—had retired to chambers to pour over case law and hand out assignments to their law clerks.

Booth stared at the copious notes he'd written on each case and when his gaze trailed over the ones for KBC Systems, it all felt strangely surreal. For months, his life had been turned upside down because of this particular case and yet, now it was all basically over. A grand jury indicted Trent Seward four days ago and now the Court had heard the case and all that was left was a vote and a written opinion.

Booth sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Surreal, indeed. He had a raging headache and considered taking his work home but going back to his empty house was distinctly unappealing. Parker had gone back to Rebecca's after New Year's and he missed Brennan so much it was ridiculous. It was unreal, but the woman haunted every single room in his house.

There was a light knock on his door and Booth was surprised to see Marcus walk into his chambers. "Hey."

"Why are you still here?"

Booth smiled. "Look who's talking."

"I've been doing this a long time, Seeley," he said with all the wisdom of experience, taking a seat across from Booth. "If you let this job become your whole life, you'll never leave this office. You should go home."

"Nothing to go home to, Marcus," Booth said dryly. He got a raised eyebrow that made him groan. "I know, I'm just being self-pitying. It's been a long couple of days."

"Mmm." Marcus leaned back, studied his former student. Booth had been a young law student in his classroom, a prosecutor in his courtroom and always one of the most decent men Marcus had met. It was no surprise that he had quite the soft for the newest member of the Court. "Can I give you some advice?" he asked rhetorically. "Go get your pretty doctor back and put yourself out of your misery."

Booth stared in near shock and then let out a rueful chuckle. "Where did that come from?"

The Chief Justice gave a small smile. "Kid, you've been eating your heart out for two weeks. Pretty much since it became apparent that the services of the lovely Dr. Brennan were no longer required. I'm a smart guy." He tapped his temple. "I can put two and two together."

Booth had to laugh at Marcus' tendency to refer to anyone under 50 as a kid. "It's complicated."

"You young people always think everything is so complicated." An indelicate snort. "Tell you what, you call her, you tell her you love her. How complicated is that?"

When put that way, it did seem fairly straightforward. But Booth had learned that with Temperance Brennan, nothing was that simple. "Don't tell me you are giving up the law for a career in matchmaking, Marcus," he deflected.

The older man nodded in acceptance of the deflection. "All right." Marcus stood up, walked to the door. "Oh, by the way," he said casually. "She was here today."

Booth's eyes went narrow. "What?"

"Just before arguments for Richards v. KBC started," Marcus explained. "I went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee and I could have sworn I saw her walking into the elevator. I was curious so I checked the visitor's list for today." A casual shrug as he opened the door. "She was here."

Even after Marcus left his chambers, Booth stared in bemusement at the door. She was back in D.C.? Part of him wanted to do exactly as Marcus had suggested and go track her down right that minute. Not the first time the thought had crossed his mind over the last few weeks, but he reminded himself that rushing her was probably a very bad idea.

With effort, Booth turned back to his work, but after an hour he pushed back from his desk in disgust. Clearly, it was time to go home because he'd just about reached the height of unproductivity. Deciding to organize a bit before heading out, he decided to archive the case law his clerks had left for him. He was wading through his file cabinet when he heard the knock on his door. Booth almost chuckled. Marcus must be more concerned about him that he'd let on.

"Come in," he called out without turning around, skimming through file folders until he found the correct one. "You know, Marcus, if I didn't know better I'd start to think you—"

He turned around, his heart stopped.

"Hi, Booth."

**-x-**

He looked so surprised, Brennan swallowed nervously. "I—I'm sorry to just show up so unexpectedly. I should have called …"

Her words trailed off as he walked towards her with the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. Unconsciously, she walked forward too and then he was hauling her into his arms and slanting his mouth on hers.

Her eyes closed on a small groan and she snaked her arms around his waist, holding him impossibly close. She felt his fingers thread through her hair, his hold gentle and possessive at the same time and her own hands fisted the back of his shirt. He felt so solid against her and his mouth was warm and hungry on hers, tasting like liquid candy and pure need. God, it didn't seem possible that a person could be addictive, but she felt like an addict, taking a hit of her drug of choice after weeks of withdrawal.

When his mouth pulled away to inhale some much needed air, she nearly whimpered. Booth pressed his forehead to hers and smiled against her lips. "Hello, Bones."

Brennan inhaled deeply, trying to regulate her hectic breathing. "You're still overworking, I see."

"Long day today."

She studied him with a frown and one hand cupped around his cheek. "You look tired, Booth."

He smiled. "You look beautiful." A tiny kiss was pressed between her brows, then the tip of her nose and then her mouth was his again. A softer kiss, sweet and tender. Helplessly, she pressed her face against his shoulder and he held her tighter. "God," Booth whispered into her hair. "I've missed you, Bren."

It was foolish, so foolish, but in a tiny, barely audible voice, she couldn't help confessing, "I've missed you too."

**-x-**

She was nervous.

"I don't have anything to drink," Brennan blurted out. "I flew in this morning and haven't been to the—"

"Just water will be fine, Bones."

Nervous and skittish like a baby deer. Booth was surprised. She'd never been nervous with him before and he wondered if it was because he was in her apartment, a place he'd never been before.

He looked around while she went to the kitchen and frowned a little. The apartment was modern and very, very neat, but it didn't feel like her. She liked old movies and jigsaw puzzles, classical music and art photography. She was fire and ice in one beautiful, confusing package, but none of that was reflected in her house.

"How long have you lived here, Bren?" he asked curiously.

"Here?" Brennan handed him a glass of water. "About a year. Why?"

"You love art, Bones," he said, honest curiosity in his voice. "But your walls are practically blank. I was just surprised, I guess."

She shrugged. "This place came fully furnished. I suppose I've never bothered to alter it to reflect my particular sensibilities."

"Why's that?"

Another shrug, this time a little more stiffly. "It's not like your house, I realize," she replied, more harshly than intended. "But this is not a home, Booth. Just a place where I stay."

"Hey, I never meant to—" He'd hit a nerve without even meaning to and it scraped right against that icy exterior that he'd learned was nothing but a mask. "Bones, I'm sorry," Booth said gently. "I was just curious."

Her chin tilted, just that one defiant inch up and Booth sighed. He put his water glass down and walked to her. She eyed him warily and he just scooped her up in his arms.

"Booth!"

He smiled against her hair when she put her head on his shoulder. Booth didn't think he'd ever get used to the way she could go from prickly to vulnerable in the blink of an eye. "Damn, woman," he growled softly. "You're determined to make me crazy, aren't you?"

"I don't know what that means," she mumbled into his shoulder as he sat with her on the couch.

He made a noncommittal noise and decided to let her slide. They settled into a lulling silence, but Booth didn't mind. It was good to just hold her. His fingertips brushed over her back and he couldn't help pressing his nose to the silkiness of her hair.

"Booth?"

"Mmm?"

"Did Parker like the Lucky Luciano jersey?"

"Lucky Lucia—?" Booth laughed, tipped her chin up to see a slight smile playing around her lips. "It's Luc Robitaille and you know it. You do that on purpose, don't you?"

"Did he like it?" she repeated, easily disregarding his question.

"Yes, he did, Bones. He loved it." Booth kissed her cheek. "He says thank you."

Brennan's smile widened, proud that she'd gotten the Christmas present right. She'd had some help from Booth, but still, she was very pleased. "He's very welcome."

"How was spending the holidays with your brother?" he asked gently.

"It was very nice," she admitted softly. "His family is lovely."

There was a wistful look in her blue eyes that cut him in half. Her fingers played with his own, almost absently, and she worried her bottom lip. That brain was whirling and he tugged on her fingers to get her attention. "What is it?"

She shifted a little in his lap, picked at nothing on his shirt. "His wife, Amy," Brennan said quietly. "She's very warm and loving. It's clear she makes him very happy."

"Okay." He studied her carefully, trying to figure out the twisty path her brain was taking. "That's very nice."

"Yes. It is." Her blues eyes went stormy and then she was blurting out, "You should have that."

_Uh-uh._ Booth went tense. "I really don't like that sentence." Her gaze skittered away from him and he got a real bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Tell me, did you get your thinking done?"

Lips pressed tightly together, she gave a slight nod. "Booth—"

He raised a hand. "Okay, just please, tell me you didn't think yourself right out of this relationship."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible. "I think …I think it's not a good idea. I'm terrible. I'm terrible at this, Booth. And I couldn't stand to hurt you. I couldn't stand to have you hate me." He leaned back and simply studied her until Brennan couldn't take the silence anymore. "Please, say something."

"What do you want me to say?" he said evenly. "Looks like you have it all figured out."

His calm, even tone when she felt on the verge of falling apart nearly made her want to scream. She pushed off his chest and scrambled off his lap and had barely taken a few steps when he got up as well. In one quick move he'd closed a hand over her arm and whirled her around to face him.

"If you want to end this because _you_ can't deal with it, then just say so," Booth challenged. "But don't you dare make it about me."

"It is about you, damn it," she hissed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. "It's about protecting you!"

"Protecting me?" he hissed back, his calm façade cracking like so much glass. "I've got news for you, Brennan, but that particular job ended last month. I don't need your protection anymore."

"You're being purposely dense. It doesn't suit you."

"And you're being a damn coward," he shot right back. "Doesn't suit you either."

"Damn it, Booth!" The painful lump in her throat threatened to make her voice an unsteady, trembling mess. "You told me once you'd never remarried because the next time you did it, you wanted to make sure it would be forever. Do you remember that?"

"Okay." He remembered that conversation from the first night they spent together. "What does that have to do with us, Bones?"

"Everything!" she nearly screamed. "Marriage and forever. You deserve someone who can give you that, Booth." She could barely even wrap her head around those particular concepts. "You deserve someone who can make you happy."

"Damn it!" He almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. "You make me happy, you infuriating woman!" He raked a frustrated hand over his hair and took a deep breath, tried to gather a little of the calm and rationality she loved so much. "Listen, Bren, I'm not talking about marriage here. Or even forever, for God's sake. I'm just talking about giving this a shot. Giving _us_ a shot."

"You don't think I want to?" she asked hoarsely. "You don't think I want to tell my mind to forget logic and reason? But I can't, that's not how I operate. And two people as different as us? It wouldn't work, Booth, it wouldn't work," she swallowed heavily, unshed tears clogging up her throat. "I'm only going to hurt you."

He gave a humorless chuckle. "Funny, but I didn't realize that seeing into the future was one of your many talents."

The sarcastic, almost flippant response had her eyes narrowing. "This is not a joke, Booth," she said tightly.

His own gaze went diamond hard. "Oh, you're so damn right." In two steps, he'd crossed the distance between them and hauled her against him. "_This_ is dead serious." His mouth hovered over hers, his eyes a clear challenge.

"No. Don't." It was whispered achingly. Without any willpower. Already Brennan knew, one touch of his lips and she would crumble. "That's not very fair." Fingers gripped the back of his shirt. "You make me so weak."

The pure, raw honesty made him groan. She would be the death of him. "Oh, Bren, believe me," he sighed out softly, "if I thought sex could knock some sense into you, we'd be in bed." His thumb trailed over her soft bottom lip. "And I'd already be inside you." But of course, Booth knew that at this stage of the game, sex, no matter how mind-blowing, would be nothing but a band-aid.

A fine tremor went through her and her forehead pressed against him. "I'm sorry." She blinked rapidly, but a few traitorous tears escaped anyway. "I wish I could be different, I wish I could change for—"

"No," he said it gently but firmly. "Ah, Bones, why would I want you to change when it's the person you are that I'm crazy about?" His fingertips brushed over the tear tracks on her cheeks. "Listen to me, we may be very different people, but that doesn't mean we're not compatible. That doesn't mean we can't make each other happy. You don't think Angela and Hodgins are as different as they come?"

"I—" Her brow furrowed and her lips parted, but no other words escaped. Booth could see her processing his words and pressed his advantage.

"Answer me this," he said quietly, softly. "Do you want to walk away from this and never _know_?" It was one of her weakness, Booth knew, her inherent desire to just _know_ and he took shameless advantage. All was fair. "Never know if we could be happier together than we could ever hope to be apart? If the bad days will be bearable and the good days amazing because we come home to each other? If everything we've been feeling these last five months will only grow stronger or fade away?"

Her heart jackhammered inside her chest with every softly delivered word. Brennan was sure that he could feel it and yet she couldn't even move away from the circle of his arms. She'd been prepared to say goodbye, certain that it was the best thing for both of them, but he was dismantling that certainty like an unsteady house of cards.

"Are you prepared to walk away from me, Bren?" Still soft words, but lower and darker and with a fine thread of barely leashed passion. "Because I gotta tell you, I sure as hell am not prepared to let you." Dark eyes glittered like polished onyx. "You know why? Because I can't even imagine not seeing you anymore. Not holding you or kissing you again. Not hearing you laugh when I say something silly. I can't imagine not having you across from me ready to kick my ass at Scrabble or lecturing me about nutrition when I make breakfast. I can't imagine opening my fridge and not seeing your weird tofu or going to sleep and not smelling you on my sheets. There are a million things I just can't imagine because I can't imagine my life without you, anymore." His lips were so close they almost brushed hers as they moved. "Can you? Can you imagine your life without me in it, Temperance?"

Her eyes squeezed shut and his hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. "Because if you can look me in the eye and tell me you can, I swear I'll walk away right now and you'll never have to see me again."

Her eyes snapped open, a brilliant, shimmering blue. Booth's heart nearly stopped as her lips parted. "Dammit," she whispered in the hoarsest tone he'd ever heard. "You know I can't."

The admission terrified her. Booth could see it in that pure, ocean blue gaze. But as much as it scared her, she needed him. He was almost sure she loved him. That's why she couldn't lie, that's why it never even crossed her mind to do so. _I need you too_, he thought fiercely. _I love you too_. _So damn much_.

He kept the words to himself, figuring he'd pushed her enough for one night. She looked a little shell-shocked and Booth could only guess that she was trying to process the way he'd derailed her attempt at self-sacrifice. Jesus, but she scared the crap out of him when she started talking about protecting him and not being able to make him happy and he could so easily see the way she was preparing to end this amazing thing between them.

It was so tempting to kiss those full, pink lips. To pick her up and carry her to bed and make love to her all night until she'd surrendered everything. But it didn't feel very fair. He wanted everything she had to give, but he wanted her to trust him enough to give it to him consciously and with eyes wide open. So he kissed her forehead and released the hold he had around her.

"I'm gonna go, not because I don't want to stay, but because I need you to know that I'm gonna give you space to figure this out, Bones," he explained. "I don't wanna scare you or pressure you or turn you into someone you're not." With a crooked finger under her chin, he tipped her face up and dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "Bren, I just wanna be with you."

**-x-**

He didn't call her or stop by her place. He didn't so much as text her. After four days, he simply sent her a small, cheerful bouquet of daisies. The little card amidst the blooms simply read, _Just Because_.

She didn't respond in any way, but two days later, Booth returned to his chambers after the morning oral arguments and found a plain brown paper bag on his desk. Before he even opened it, he recognized the delicious smell that indicated it was his favorite soup from his favorite hole in the wall restaurant. Inside the bag there were a couple of napkins and one of them had three words written in a neat, precise handwriting he recognized. _Do not overwork_.

A few days later, Brennan received a small square package in the mail. It was a DVD of _The Treasure of the Sierra Madre_. The sticky note on top of the case read, _taking Saturday completely off. Movie marathon and popcorn_, followed by a smiley face. By Saturday, he'd gotten a DVD also. Immediately, Booth recognized one of her favorite Clara Bow movies, _Mantrap_. Her post-it made him smile_. For your marathon. P.S. what do you think Clara Bow would sound like?_

When Booth returned the DVD, he attached his answer in another yellow post-it. _BTW_, _Bow would sound sultry and sexy_.

And so it went for almost four weeks. No phone calls, no emails, no texts, but heartfelt communication nonetheless.

A small plastic pig. _No dog should be named Jasper, but maybe him?_

A new crime thriller novel that she thought he might like. _I can't speak as to the accuracy of the science, but plot and characters are very compelling_.

A stylized print photo of her favorite planet. _Because it made me think of you_.

A pair of wildly striped socks. _Because I miss your silly socks. And you_.

"Booth, are you listening to me?"

He tore his gaze away from the pile of sticky post-it notes on his desk and jerked his head up, meeting Angela's agitated gaze.

"I heard you, Ange," Booth sighed, rounding his desk and helping Angela maneuver into one of the cushioned seats in his office. She was a week away from her due date and looked like she was about to pop right there in his house. "Does Jack know you're here? Shouldn't you be at home, resting?"

"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated," she said in a tone that reminded him eerily of Brennan. "And you didn't answer me."

He sighed again. "No, I haven't seen Brennan. And I haven't talked to her." Technically, not a lie, but despite his affection for Angela, he was unwilling to explain the unorthodox courtship he had going on with his stubborn linguist. Some things were just between them. "I'm giving her space."

Angela snorted. "You know she's stubborn, don't you?"

"Yes, Angela, I know."

"You're not going to give up on her, are you?" Her expressive eyes were almost accusing. "Because I think not even calling her in almost a month is a little too much space," she fretted.

Booth almost smiled. Despite her friendship with Angela, it looked like Brennan was also keeping what was between them, just theirs. "Ange, would you stop worrying?" He gave her an easy smile, but she wasn't pacified.

Perhaps it was due to the baby currently doing cartwheels in her stomach, but Angela's protective instincts were going into overdrive. As the wife of a wealthy senator, she had a multitude of acquaintances, but the number of real friends could be counted on one hand. And Brennan, with her sad eyes and almost childlike innocence despite everything she'd seen and done, tugged at Angela's heartstrings like no one else.

Angela would never forget the day they met. She had been on the blind date from hell at a fancy Paris restaurant and desperate to escape. Brennan had walked by the table just as her tolerance had reached its limit. Angela had jumped up and gasped, running to her and embracing her. In the blink of an eye, she had made up a name for Brennan, introduced her to her date, and spun a sordid tale of sex and betrayal and illegitimate babies. The man, conservative and staid to the top of his well-coifed head, had looked horrified, but Angela figured that was a better look than the one he would have had if she'd given in to the impulse to stick him in the face with a fork. Angela was sure Brennan had wondered if she was deranged, but after a blink, she'd adapted smoothly, going along with her performance. When Brennan had deadpanned, "But our baby needs you," Angela had known they would be friends forever.

"Brennan's special, Booth," Angela said fiercely. "There's no one else like her. And if you let her go, you're gonna regret it forever."

Booth looked at Angela's fierce gaze and had to go over and give her a hug. "You're a good friend, Ange," he said. "I know you've always been there for her." In more ways than one. He was well aware that when Angela was living in Paris, Brennan had been on a deep cover assignment that had gone to hell. She'd been shot, her cover blown, and she'd lost contact with her CIA handler. It had been Angela who had gotten her to a hospital. And then gotten her out of Paris on her father's private plane. "I love that she has that." Booth pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

She nodded, a little tearfully. Angela nearly cursed her out of control hormones. "I know you love her."

"I do," he confirmed.

"Have you told her?" Angela demanded.

Booth sighed. "Ange …"

"Fine," she said it sternly. "Fine. I hope you know what you're doing." Her eyes narrowed and she thought about it for a heartbeat. "Because Guatemala is not exactly a car ride away."

"Excuse me?"

"She's leaving for Guatemala." She blinked innocently. "Guess you wouldn't know since you haven't talked to her in a while."

"No." Booth shook his head. "You're wrong."

"I'm not. I helped her pack." Angela looked at Booth's face and felt a little guilty. She hesitated, wondering if perhaps she should … but with a tightening of her lips, she pressed forward. Angela was a big believer in letting destiny take its course. But in her opinion, sometimes even fate needed a helping hand. "Her plane leaves in an hour."

Booth took a deep breath. Something didn't feel right, but he didn't doubt Brennan was at the airport right at the moment. He wasn't sure whether to be pissed or heartbroken. "One hour?"

"Yes."

He cursed. "Son of a bitch."


	29. Fall Into Me

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: There seems to be a rumor that there will be a season 9 and I hope it's true because I am not ready to say goodbye to Bones! However, I do hope you're ready to say goodbye to this version of our favorite duo! Writing this has been a struggle and a joy all mixed wonderfully together. The support and response to this has been amazing and I can't thank you all enough! :)

**Fall Into Me**

* * *

Brennan glanced at her watch and then at her cell phone.

She needed to call Booth. Actually, to be more precise, she needed to _see_ Booth. She needed to touch him and smell him and be with him.

_I just wanna be with you_.

Those words had been pretty much playing through her head on a daily basis for weeks. And even though her stomach still clenched in sheer panic at the thought of messing up what she had with him, she knew he was right. She couldn't _not_ know. She couldn't risk both their happiness because she was too afraid. Maybe she'd break his heart, metaphorically speaking. Maybe he'd break hers. But for the way he made her feel, it all seemed so worth it. And at the end of the day, it boiled down to one simple, inescapable thing.

_I just wanna be with you too._

God, she missed him terribly. With a sigh, she took another look at her watch and realized that she was going to have to catch a different flight. The four day UN summit wouldn't begin until the next day in the afternoon and there was a morning flight. Brennan was scheduled to translate the opening address so it would be cutting it closer than she'd like, but she couldn't leave without seeing him. Four days hadn't seemed that long, but suddenly, it seemed unbearable to wait even that much.

Vaguely, she heard the last boarding call for her flight announced over the speakerphone, but already she had a more pressing concern. Abruptly, Brennan turned around and took two aggressive steps to the man following three paces behind her. "Who are you?" She had no weapons on her, but was more than willing and able to defend herself bare-handed. "And why are you following me?"

She was radiating hostility and he reached into his pocket real careful and pulled out his badge. "Agent Gibson. Homeland Security," he introduced himself. "I need you to come with me."

She took his badge and examined it carefully before returning it, apparently satisfied with her inspection. "Why?"

A sigh. "Wish I knew," he muttered under his breath. "Look, Doctor Brennan, I got a hold for questioning request from the FBI for you, so I gotta ask you to please come with me." Conscious that he'd been told that she could very well be difficult and possibly violent and yet he was supposed to handle her with all the care of fine china, Agent Gibson sent her a pleading look. "Please."

Brennan's gaze was full of suspicion but causing a scene had never been her style. It garnered unwanted attention and was potentially dangerous to herself and others. With a terse nod to indicate her consent she followed a clearly relieved Agent Gibson.

He led her to a small room and deferentially opened the door. "Thank you," he said, sincerely thankful with her cooperation. "Please have a seat."

"I'd rather stand." Her cooperation would only go so far. "Who are we waiting for?" His eyes shifted to the door, clearly expecting someone to walk in. Brennan huffed in annoyance. "Look, I don't know what the FBI wants with me, but I retired four years ago," she said coolly. It wasn't the first time her presence had been _requested_ by a government agency since leaving the CIA and she doubted it would be the last. Sometimes, they wanted information, but mostly, they had something they wanted her to do. She always said no, but the word retirement apparently meant very little to certain branches of the U.S. government. "Whatever they need me to do, it had better involve translating something from the comfort of my own apartment or they're going to be very displeased with my answer."

Agent Gibson chose to remain silent, sending another anxious glance at the door. He could practically feel her impatience and knew he wouldn't be able to keep her there for much longer. Hard blue eyes drilled him with scary intensity and he shifted uncomfortably, reminding himself that this particular favor would settle his long-standing debt, once and for all.

"All right, this is ridiculous," Brennan said, her patience clearly running out after another five minutes. "Your time has expired, Mr. Gibson."

"Agent Gibson, ma'am," he corrected, mostly in an attempt to buy time. "Look, I understand you have—" The door opened and he grinned in giddy relief. "Well, Agent Sullivan here can explain everything."

Sully walked in, followed by Booth. Brennan stared at both men in clear surprise. Agent Gibson gave a respectful nod in Booth's direction, apparently recognizing him. "Thanks, Gibbs," Sully said amiably. "We'll take it from here."

Gibson didn't have to be told twice. His curiosity about a Supreme Court Justice's involvement in whatever was going on was sky high but he was nobody's fool. "Heck yeah, you will," he muttered. "We're even now, Sul," he added amiably, walking by Sully and promptly escaping the room.

Brennan's gaze went to Sully once and then lasered in on Booth. He stared back at her with hard eyes and a dark cast to his gaze that didn't bode well. Sully sighed at the standoff. "Hey, doc," he said cheerfully.

"Agent Sullivan." She nodded, without taking her eyes off Booth. "I assume there's no actual hold for questioning request from the FBI, correct?"

"Ah, no." He tried another grin and then just shook his head. He really didn't know what was going on. Sully had gotten a call from Booth that he needed a favor and here he was, clearly in the middle of a relationship issue. "Okay, I'm gonna go now," he said inanely.

"Goodbye, Agent Sullivan."

Booth had yet to say a word and Sully knew his friend enough to know he was well and truly pissed. With another sigh, Sully turned to leave and as he passed by Booth, he said quietly, "Don't be an idiot."

The click of the door as Sully exited seemed almost ominous in the silence. Brennan eyed Booth warily, throat going a little dry. She'd been surprised to see him, but her first impulse had been to run to him and kiss him. With two other people in the room, she had automatically curved the impulsive desire and now that they were alone, it was registering that he didn't look nearly as pleased to see her as she was to see him.

"Angela told you about my trip?" The question was almost rhetorical as it was the only thing that made sense, but the way his eyes fired up, it was apparently the entirely wrong thing to say.

"Well, it certainly wasn't you, was it?" Booth said in a steely tone. "You know, I never actually thought you'd take the coward's way out."

Brennan frowned. "Booth—"

"Oh, forget it," he growled icily, too pissed to let her continue. Hearing she was leaving had felt like a knife to the gut, but standing in front of her now, fury was coating the pain nicely. "You know what, I don't even know why I'm here." Except he did. He knew perfectly. Damn her and her beautiful blue eyes that unglued him with just one look. "I'm a goddamn idiot," he swore, icy tone turning heated. "Because here we are, in the goddamn airport, and I still can't believe that you were just going to leave."

"Booth …I …" Brennan took a step closer to him and he instinctively wanted to do the same. "I think I'm confused."

She was looking at him with those big, guileless eyes he fucking adored and Booth struggled to hold on to his anger. Dammit. Dammit. "Yeah, me too," he admitted wryly. "Because how completely ridiculous that I'm so pissed at you and still all I want to do is hold you and kiss you and fucking beg you to stay?" Suddenly, he couldn't stand still anymore and he was taking those few steps towards her, clasping her shoulders and bringing her closer. "Goddamn it, Bren, you can't go."

Her hands automatically rested on his chest and she blinked, her reply quite a literal one. "I have to."

"No, you don't." His hands slid over her shoulders and into her hair. "You can't. You know why? Because I'm yours." He'd been pissed and hurt before, but having her in his arms, her eyes so clear and bright, her fingertips delicately whispering across his collarbone in an almost soothing gesture and he knew something wasn't adding up. "And you are not gonna give me up, are you, Bones?" It was a rhetorical murmur. "You're not going to let someone else touch me and kiss me and make me happy. Only you have that right, don't you?"

"Yes. Only me," she murmured and her eyes blazed, fingertips pressing into his skin. "I'm not giving you up, Booth."

He laughed in relief and kissed her swiftly. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him so sweetly, he nearly shuddered. With a soft gasp, they broke apart and Booth let his forehead press against hers. "Tell me what's going on," he requested, his head finally catching up to his heart. "What's the deal with Guatemala?"

"I'm translating for a UN conference on sustainable development." Brennan frowned. "I thought Angela told you."

"Yeah, she told me you were leaving and it sounded like–" His eyes narrowed and he asked the question he should have asked Angela an hour ago. "When are you supposed to be coming back?"

"Tuesday." Brennan's own brain was catching up. "She didn't tell you that, did she?"

"No." The reply was followed by a foul course. "I'm gonna kill her," he growled. "I swear I'm gonna strangle her with my bare hands."

"She's pregnant, Booth."

"Okay, I'll let her have the baby and then I'll strangle her." Booth inhaled deeply, trying to dispel the shock. "My god, those pregnancy hormones had to have messed with her mind. Why would she pull this crap?"

He wasn't really expecting an answer, but Brennan replied, anyway. "I believe she's been displeased with our inability to catch up to our own reality," she quoted one of Angela's favorite complaints. "Though I'm not quite sure what that means."

"It means she got tired of waiting for us to deal with this and decided to meddle," Booth explained with a shake of his head. "She's freaking unbelievable."

"She may be too awash in hormones to be thinking rationally," Brennan offered helpfully. "And she's very adamant that if you …" she paused for a moment, eyes skittering almost wildly before settling on a point over his shoulder. "That if you love someone, you should tell them."

Ah. Booth's heart nearly stopped. There it was, the very thing they'd been carefully skirting for months. But it was the moment of truth and there was no more backing down.

"Do you love me?" he gambled, softly tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Do you love me?" she shot back. Her voice was steady, but he noticed the way her pulse fluttered in her throat.

He chuckled softly. "Bren, I just used the federal government to keep you in this country and I was ready to chase you all the way to freaking Guatemala," he admitted ruefully. "Do you think there's any chance I'm not hopelessly in love with you?"

Her gaze snapped up to his. "I …" Eyes wide, lips curving into a shy little smile. "It does appear to be the rational conclusion."

"Bren…" he prompted, with a slightly amused smile. "C'mon."

"Very well." Brennan took a deep breath. "I've always felt unsure about love. It's something intangible and impossible to define and I've always felt uncomfortable with that." She blinked once and her voice went soft. "And I still can't define it, Booth, but I know I can't come up with any other way to describe what I feel for you other than love."

His grin spread, wide and nearly blinding. "Just say it, baby," he murmured against her mouth.

"I love you, Booth." Delicate hands gripped the lapels of his coat fiercely. "And I want to give this a shot."

"Yes," he whispered the word into her mouth. "Heck yes."

Feeling almost light-headed, Booth wound his arms around her waist, picked her up and couldn't help giving her a quick little spin. Brennan broke the kiss with a laugh and when he put her on the ground again, she slid her hands up to cup his face.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" she murmured with awe, giddiness, and the slightest hint of anxiety.

Booth smiled softly. "We really are," he confirmed, meeting her mouth tenderly to seal the promise with a kiss.

**-x-**

Not for the first time the following morning, Brennan looked at the clock and whispered, "I have to go."

"No." Booth smiled, rolling over neatly to settle over her naked body. "One more."

She laughed. "I'm going to miss my flight." But her legs were already winding around his waist, her back arching in invitation. "Again."

"You're not," he reassured, whispering kisses over her throat. "I'll get you to the airport in time."

"You don't have to," she offered, stroking up his chest and over his shoulders. "It's very early still. I can take a taxi, Booth."

He groaned ecstatically, slipping inside her welcoming, heated body. "No way," he panted. Stilling for a second to enjoy the way she felt around him, Booth smiled down at her. "It's one of the perks of a relationship, Bones," he said teasingly, rubbing his lips against hers. "Someone to drop you off and pick you up at the airport."

"Really?" she moaned softly as he began to move. "And are there more of these relationship perks to look forward to?"

"There's a ton," he chuckled huskily, capturing her bottom lip softly between his teeth. After a painless graze, his tongue slid over the plump flesh. "How about I show you?" With a grin, his mouth was slating down against hers and his hips were crashing down to meet her own quickening pace. And there were soft moans and husky groans, but no more words as they rocked each other up and over in a glorious mix of seeking lips and tangled limbs.

Afterwards, their hectic breathing slowly returned to normal and Booth held Brennan securely in his arms.

"I can't believe I miss you already," he confessed ruefully.

Brennan smiled gently. "It's only a few days," she reminded him.

Booth shrugged. "I know." His knuckles grazed her cheek softly. "But I'm still gonna miss you."

"You're very sentimental." Brennan leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his chest and one against his jaw and admitted, "But I find I am reluctant to leave, as well. Even though I know I will see you again in mere days."

He laughed. "Oh, you're just wildly romantic, aren't you?" Booth tangled a hand in her hair, eyes sparkling up at her. "Damn, I'm crazy about you, Temperance."

Warmth spread in a flush, pretty lashes lowered demurely. "Are you?" she murmured.

"Yes." Booth chuckled at her attempt at coyness. "I love you, Bones."

Her lashes lifted and they looked at each other with equally dazed, hopeful, shining gazes. His fingers fisted the soft strands of her hair and her head lowered and two sets of lips melded in an unspoken promise. Whatever pain they risked, it was worth it. They both knew that. It was in their kiss, the recognition that they were starting something beautiful and scary, and utterly theirs.

For that, anything was worth it.

* * *

**-x-**

**I said before New Year's and I meant it! :) I'm gonna leave it open for now 'cause I'm still deciding on whether there will be an epilogue or not (my little personal internal battle!) But I hope this ending has been everything you wanted! Thank you for staying with this for 2 years! :)  
**


	30. Right from the Start

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.

A/n: Okay, here we go. Ask and ye shall receive! Final chapter of this story. Thanks so much to everyone who've toiled with me with this story, commented, reviewed, and encouraged. Special thanks to pal Dispatch who was always there for a swift kick in the pants and unlimited musing when I felt like giving up! :)

**Epilogue: Right from the Start  
**

* * *

**A year plus a few months later …**

Brennan could feel his eyes on her from the bathroom doorway. Purposefully ignoring him, she looked into the mirror and continued to carefully apply mascara to her lashes.

"Bren …"

"No." She blinked and assessed her work. "Go away."

Booth chuckled and stepped inside their bathroom. "I've got something for you." He walked right behind her and settled his hands loosely at her waist. "Come with me for a sec."

She scoffed. "You're not going to talk me back into bed again," Brennan warned sternly. "We cannot be late."

"We're not gonna be late." Booth nuzzled into the side of her neck, eyes fluttering lazily at the smell of her perfume. "God, you smell incredible."

"It would be shameful," she chastised, resolutely ignoring his warm lips and the compliment. "You're the best man."

"I'm aware, Bones." His fingers tugged on the silky fabric of her robe. "C'mon. I promise I'm not trying to seduce you." He smiled innocently. "I do have some self-control, you know."

Another scoff, accompanied with a raised eyebrow. "Oh please." Her eyes met his in the mirror and she noted he was dressed already, looking unfairly beautiful in his tux. Only thing missing was the bow tie, which was hanging around his neck, not yet tied. "I still have to get dressed, Booth. And put make-up on."

"You don't need any make-up," he said silkily, hands on her shoulders turning her around to face him. "You are so freaking beautiful it's criminal."

"Angela says that's what all men say when they want something."

"Stop listening to Angela," he muttered and grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the bathroom. "I just need to show you something."

He led her out of the bedroom and to the living room. Along the way, he'd placed a hand over her eyes as they walked. "Booth," she laughed a little. "What's going on?"

"Okay," he said with a smile, stopping in front of the couch. "Open your eyes."

She gasped at the little ball of fur curled up on the couch. "What?" Immediately, she sat down and scooped up the tiny puppy. "Booth …what is this?"

"A puppy, Bones." He laughed and crouched in front of her to be at eye-level with the puppy. "C'mon, I thought you were a genius."

"I know it's a puppy, Booth," she said with a roll of her eyes. "But why is he here?"

"Because he's ours?" Booth asked with a crooked smile, one finger smoothing over the puppy's head.

Brennan smiled, a little dazed. "Ours?"

"Yeah." Booth melted at the way she rubbed her cheek against the little furry head. "Unless, you don't want him," he teased just a little.

"Of course I do." She clutched the puppy to her chest protectively. "Where did you get him?"

"From a shelter," he explained. "Park helped me pick him out last week. He had to get vaccinated and medically cleared, so we couldn't take him home." Booth smiled up at her. "The shelter called me today that he was ready. I went to get him while you were in the shower. I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm very surprised." She laughed delightedly and then confessed shyly, "I've always wanted a dog."

His fingers smoothed in a small circle over her knee. "I know."

Brennan's gaze went from the puppy to Booth. "You do?"

"Ah, Bren, Hodgins has to practically pry Rip from your hands every time they bring him over."

The slightest color stained her cheeks, but she didn't deny it. Brennan laughed as the puppy burrowed his cold little nose against her hand. "He needs a name."

"Yes, he does."

"Ohh …Jasper!"

Booth balked. "What? No way!"

She raised wide blue eyes to him. "Please."

"Bones, c'mon, don't do this to me," he pleaded, knowing he was putty in her hands when she looked at him with that bright little girl gaze. "That's so not fair."

"It's a perfectly fine name."

"Not for a dog," he groaned, petting the puppy in her arms. "Look at him…he's not a Jasper. How about Greztky?"

Brennan's nose wrinkled. "Perhaps we should give this more thought."

"Okay," Booth agreed quickly, relieved he didn't have to commit to Jasper. "We don't need to decide right now."

"Hi, Puppy," Brennan said, looking into warm brown eyes. "We'll find a name for you later." A little paw swiped playfully at her and Brennan tuned to mush. "He's beautiful, Booth."

Her smile warmed him from the inside out. He cupped her face and kissed her over the puppy's head. "C'mon, we have a wedding to get to. Cam and Sully will kill us if we're late."

**-x-**

It was a great wedding.

The bride looked lovely, the groom was handsome. There was good food, good music and an open bar.

At the end of the night, Booth swayed a tipsy Brennan in his arms. "You ready to go home?" he asked softly, rubbing his lips against hers.

"No." She grinned up at him. "I want to dance with you forever."

"Oh, you're so drunk, baby," he chuckled, holding her just a little closer.

"Am not." Brennan pressed her face against his neck and inhaled happily. "I have a very high tolerance for alcohol, I'll have you know."

That was true enough, but between her and Angela, they'd put quite a dent in the bar's wine supply. She was definitely on the drunk side of tipsy, but he loved seeing her that way. If there was one thing he'd learned living with her was that Temperance Brennan was a highly controlled woman and he was one of the few people that got to experience her like this…loose and relaxed and carefree. He dipped her and gave her a quick spin and brought her close again, relishing the soft, uncharacteristic giggle that escaped her.

When she had enough dancing, Booth took her home and smiled at her excited, just slightly slurred chatter. She wanted to play with her new puppy and rushed straight to the bedroom as soon as they walked through the front door.

"He's asleep," Brennan observed in undisguised disappointment, looking down at the bed of pillows and blankets they had created for the pup before leaving the house.

"It's late, baby."

"I wanted to play with him."

Booth chuckled a little at her small pout. "He's not going anywhere. You can play with him tomorrow." Reaching out, he drew her unresisting body into his arms and brushed his lips against her jaw. "How about you play with me tonight?"

"That's a sexual innuendo, right?"

He grinned and lowered the thin little straps of her beautiful purple dress. "You tell me." Peeling the bodice down, Booth opened his mouth over the curve of one lace-clad breast. "God, this is a sexy bra."

Automatically, Brennan's hands went up, fingers tangling in his hair. "Are you trying to take advantage of my inebriated state?" It was a husky murmur.

Booth smirked, lips closing over lace to suck one perked nipple. "I thought you said you weren't drunk?"

"I'm not." It was an immediate reply and then her lips quirked up. "Not very."

He laughed, kissing up the length of her throat. "Should I tuck you into bed?" Agile fingers found the catch of her skimpy strapless bra and flicked it open. It dropped to the floor with barely a sound and Booth splayed one hand over the bare skin between her shoulder blades. "I hear alcohol can make you sleepy." His other hand curved over one breast, molding the soft flesh, thumb rubbing the tight nipple. "You sleepy, Bones?"

Her head spun wonderfully and it had nothing to do with the wine in her system. Hands to his chest, she pushed him back until he hit the bed. Booth groaned, finding the way she gathered her dress up around her thighs as she straddled him so very sexy. "Gonna take that as a no," he teased, yanking on the loose bowtie around his neck and then promptly sliding his hands over her sleek bare thighs. "Christ, you're so beautiful."

Her impatient fingers tried to open his shirt, but she wasn't at her most coordinated at the moment. "Booth…" Her voice was a husky whine as she struggled with the unresponsive buttons. "Help me."

He laughed a little, but complied immediately. Brennan sighed in appreciation, sliding the shirt over his shoulders, just enough so that she could run her hands over the sleek muscles that never failed to arouse her. "I love touching you."

"Do you now?" Brown eyes glittered up at her, male hands sliding up her torso and palming her rounded breasts. "What else do you love about me?"

The sentimental one in this relationship was him, so he expected a smart ass comment. Instead, her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips whispered against his, "Everything." His mouth parted in surprise and she slipped her tongue in, sweet and playful. "I love everything about you, Booth."

His heart thudded. "Damn, Bren," he whispered, almost drowning in the liquid blue of her gaze. "You can be so surprising."

Her smile was the best combination of smug and sweet. "That just means you'll never be bored with me."

"Yeah, I don't think there's any chance of that happening," he agreed. "Just watching you walk into a room is exciting." After a soft squeeze to the perfect globes in his hands, he slid beneath her dress, dragging down her panties and cupping her against his palm. "You get my heart racing with one damn look, Bones."

With a soft moan, her mouth crashed on his. She pressed against his hand and Booth let one finger slide into her warmth. Helplessly, he added a second one and began to finger her in deep, easy glides. Her nails scraped against his nape as her body went liquid around his fingers. He buried his face between her soft breasts, licking and kissing.

"Inside me," Brennan gasped, clasping his shoulders to push him back down onto the bed. "I want you inside me."

Booth hesitated for a moment, unwilling to stop stroking her when she was so close. But she skimmed her hands down his stomach and rubbed his erection mercilessly. With a groan, he fell back hard against the mattress. She unzipped him and he raised his hips, helping her lower his pants and underwear just enough to free his cock. Her cool fist wrapped around him and he moaned deeply.

"C'mere," he groaned, clasping her hips in a sure grip. "Let me feel you …I need you …I need …Bren …_Jesus Christ, you're wet_."

She sank into him and shuddered. His hands cupped her bottom, mouth leaving kisses on her exposed throat as her head tipped back in pleasure. Still half-dressed, underwear lowered just enough to get out of the way, they began to move in a familiar rhythm. Booth's hands swept over her back to tangle in her hair and his hips rose to meet hers on every stroke. Over him, she was all warm skin and soft silk, the material of her tangled dress rubbing against his skin in an erotic caress. Under her, he was all hard flesh and fine wool that added one more layer of sensation. Soft cries gave way to deeper moans and frenzied kisses until they were spinning apart together, two bodies left sweaty and satisfied.

**-x-**

Eventually, they undressed fully and climbed under the sheets. Booth curled Brennan into his arms, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. He was sated and sleepy, but she gave a small sigh and he stroked a hand down her spine and realized her languidness had disappeared.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Temperance …"

"It's nothing …" she repeated and he felt her slight shrug and just waited her out. "Cam looked lovely, didn't she?"

"Yeah …" His eyes narrowed, knowing something was swirling in that brilliant mind. He gave her a few more minutes and was met with silence. "Bren," he prompted. "C'mon…"

A beat later he knew what was on her mind. "Do you expect us to get married?"

He'd been kinda sleepy but now woke the hell up. "What?"

Brennan pushed up, leaning on one elbow and looking down at Booth. "It's a fairly simple question, Booth."

He almost scoffed. "Yeah, right." Nothing was that simple with Temperance Brennan. "Okay, why are you asking me that?"

She gave a tiny shrug. "I know you believe in marriage, Booth."

"Are you worried I'm gonna ask you to marry me?"

"Are you saying you're not?" she shot back.

"Oh, no, no, Bones," he tsked, shaking a finger at her. "I asked first."

"Forget it." With a huff, she fell back against the bed. "Good night, Booth."

He let out a little growl. "Woman, you're gonna drive me crazy, you know that, right?" He leaned up over her, braced a hand on the bed, next to her shoulder. "I know the score, Bones. I've known from the beginning how you feel. I told you once I didn't want to change you. That I just wanted to be with you. And that's as true now as it was then."

His eyes were so dark and his words so earnest that she sighed, her small fit of pique disappearing. "I know. I know, Booth. And you've never made me feel otherwise. It's just …this wedding …I was thinking …I …." Her words trailed off on another small sigh and she reached up to cup her palm against his smooth cheek. "I know you're traditional about certain things. And I also know that our relationship …it's been used to attack you."

He knew exactly what she was talking about. After the Court had ruled on one particularly controversial case, striking down a Florida law that banned same-sex marriage, Booth had written the opinion for the majority. The conservative media had taken quite a few pot-shots at him and his relationship with Brennan, their lack of legal status ready fodder for the attack. "You think I care about what some narrow-minded asshole writes in a newspaper?"

She sighed. "I know you don't, Booth, but I still dislike that our relationship can be used to attack you professionally."

"Hey, I have job security for life," he said with a half smile, turning his head to kiss her palm. "I could probably kill someone and it'd still be hard to remove me from the Court."

"Would you be serious?"

"I am." He grinned at her and leaned down to brush his mouth over the serious line of her lips. "Bren, our relationship is no one's business but ours." Idly, his thumb smoothed over one pink nipple. "You make me happy and I make you happy. Everything else is just details."

"You do make me happy," she murmured.

"I know," his smile was cocky and sweet at the same time. "Goes both ways, Bones."

"So it doesn't bother you that we aren't married?"

"No."

She raised one eyebrow. "And you don't want to get married?"

His gaze moved from the pink tip of her breast to her questioning eyes. "If I say that I do want to be married to you," he asked calmly, "are you gonna freak out on me?"

Brennan gave a mildly indignant sniff. "I do not freak out."

He chuckled. "You don't, do you?" His teasing tone went serious, his eyes steady on hers. "All right then, here it is. I'd love to marry you, okay? I love you and I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. You're it, Bones. You're the one." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "From the moment I walked into my own damn living room and saw you standing there, I knew nothing would ever be the same."

"That's impossible," she said automatically, but had to admit that the romanticism of his words had sped up her heart rate. "Even you can't predict the future, Your Honor."

His smile widened at her sass. "Those blue eyes of yours had me, right from the beginning, Bones." Wanting to be closer, Booth shifted, covering her body with his but raising off a little so as not to crush her. "You're always gonna have me. I'm always going to need you. I'm always going to love you."

"Booth …" Her throat locked at the soft words, eyes watering against her will. Her arms closed around him, holding him close. "I love you too. I love you so much."

Those words in that slightly husky voice of hers never failed to send his heart spinning. "Oh, baby, I know." Her liquid blue gaze made his heart clench. "Listen, as long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you, I don't care how we do it." His head dipped, kissing her slow and deep, until her eyes closed and she was sighing softly into his mouth. "So no, I don't expect us to get married and I'm not gonna ask you, Bones."

Her eyes popped open and narrowed. "You're not?"

Booth almost laughed. He was well familiar with her discourse on the limiting and outdated institution of marriage, but yet she didn't appear particularly pleased with his answer. Oh, it was a safe bet that his complicated genius was going to keep him guessing for the rest of their lives. Well, he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he really liked that.

"Nope." Booth dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and another on her beautiful mouth. "But just so you know, if you ever wanna ask me, the answer's always gonna be yes."

* * *

**-x-**

_**The End. Hope this has lived up to expectations. Drop me a line and leave me your thoughts on this story, it was two long years of toil and panic! Thanks! :)**_


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